


"Good Day, Lieutenant Vanto": A Thranto Tale

by WantonWhale



Series: Good Day, Lieutenant Vanto [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Outbound Flight - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Chiss law, Eli has no clue bless his heart, Idiots in Love, M/M, Much Ado About Nothing, Romantic Comedy, SassaThrass, Sibling Rivalry, Star Wars: Thrawn: Treason Spoilers, That's not how the Chiss work, Thrass just took a DNA test turns out he's 100 percent that Chiss, Thrawn has some long-distance angst and gets drunk about it, Treason compliant, Wampas were hurt in the making of this fic, Xenophobia, You made me do this Timmy Z, basically a Shakespearean comedy in space, crack adjacent, elaborate Chiss courtship rituals, oh my god they were roommates, unwitting courtship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22550122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantonWhale/pseuds/WantonWhale
Summary: Thrass needs Thrawn to come home, and he thinks he knows just the human to get the job done… not that Eli is aware, bless his heart. Who knew a greeting so seemingly-innocuous as "good day, Lieutenant Vanto" would give Thrass all the ammunition he’d need to cook up an intergalactic plot of Shakespearean proportions?I.e., A story of how one math nerd with a Wild Space accent, a good-old-fashioned sibling rivalry, and some erotic calligraphy can shift the events of history.Or... Much ado about nothing with fuck-berries and sex blankets.
Relationships: Thrass | Mitth'ras'safis & Eli Vanto, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Series: Good Day, Lieutenant Vanto [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626466
Comments: 281
Kudos: 206





	1. Preface: "Good day, Lieutenant Commander Vanto"

**Author's Note:**

> The one Explicit chapter has been posted as a separate fic, with a shorter redacted M version here (with a link to the E-rated version).  
> Glossary of Cheunh terms provided at the end, though I try to make the meaning clear from context.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrass observes Commander Eli'van'to upon his triumphant return only to find him looking less triumphant than he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains light alcohol consumption

Thrass frowned.

It made no logical sense.

Eli'van’to had been instrumental in pushing back the Grysks. He’d even helped to defend his own people in the process. His skills and loyalty were finally acknowledged through promotion to a rank previously untouched by a non-Chiss.

So why was he not celebrating? Why the frown? Why the sagging shoulders?

Assorted members of the Aristocra and CDF had gathered for a small reception. Military victories—such as that of the _Steadfast—_ were often celebrated with a cultural demonstration of some sort. It was an assertion that, though they had become warriors by necessity, the Chiss were first and foremost a people of _culture_.

An up-and-coming artist—O’Kee’fe—had filled the mansion of a prominent ruling family with elaborate mobiles crafted from glass. The panes, in variegated shades of blue, red, and purple, had all been polished to the thinness of paper, and tooled into the shape of eyes.

Or… he _thought_ they were eyes. Thrass took a sip of his drink, eyeing the gently swaying shapes with new suspicion before moving toward the Human.

Eli'van’to was standing in front of a window, staring out at the aurora flashing green and blue in the distant horizon rather than the art above them. The human seemed determined—almost desperate—to look at anything else.

He was dressed in his black CDF uniform, sipping very slowly at a warm glass of _fess’hirt:_ a liquor distilled from conifers and berries, typically enjoyed only during the winter months. Though, as Thrass had already learned, it was _always_ winter on Csilla for the Human.

Switching his glass for a fresh flute of sparkling wine from a passing servant’s tray, Thrass approached the man from the side. “Good day, Lieutenant Vanto.”

Eli snorted derisively at that, taking a deep sip of the liquor far more potent than anything his own species distilled.

Thrass cocked an eyebrow. “Apologies, habit: _Commander_ Vanto, I should have said." Thrass tilted his head and asked, "Have I offended you?”

Eli winced, his face flushing slightly with either embarrassment or alcohol. Both, probably. “No, I’m sorry, Syndic," he said quietly, "you haven’t.”

After joining Eli in watching the aurora for a few minutes, Thrass began hesitantly, “My brother was less than willing to return to the Ascendancy, I take it?”

Eli shook his head ruefully, shifting his weight to his other foot. “I could hardly get a minute alone with him—he sent me off to another planet on some errand at the first opportunity.” He laughed humorlessly. “All I got when I saw him was a ‘good day, Lieutenant Vanto.” Holding his glass up to his lips he added grimly, “Why you thought I had a snowball’s chance in Lysatra of convincing him to come home is beyond me,” before taking another deep sip.

Thrass narrowed his eyes. That was… interesting.

Very interesting indeed.

If Admiral Ar’alani was to be believed, each moment with his erstwhile brother that was not immediately occupied by battle was spent interrogating her on the condition of his former aide:

_How was he sleeping?_

_Was he taking to the food alright?_

_Was he being kept warm enough?_

_Was he properly appreciated by his comrades?_

_Was he given sufficient opportunities for advancement?_

_Was he being allowed the extended sleep cycle required by his species to thrive?_

_Was his delicate human skin having any adverse reactions to the energy-absorbing fabric of the CDF uniforms? Was it itchy? Was Eli itchy?_

_Was he experiencing any nutritional deficiencies? Should he be sent back with supplements? Vitamin D, perhaps?_

_Should I procure a sunlamp for him? Stay here, I am going to go get a sunlamp from medical._

And, according to a very peeved (though reluctantly amused) Admiral, that had just been her first _day_ aboard the ISD _Chimaera._

Thrass bit back a smile. He swirled the drink in his glass disinterestedly as he said, “Even so, that was hardly your _primary_ task. By all accounts you performed remarkably well—the Admiral tells me your promotion was well-deserved. You should be proud.”

“I am,” Eli said utterly unconvincingly.

Thrass let out a dry laugh. “ _Clearly_. I suppose this is just what humans look like when they’re feeling gratified, and not _horribly disappointed_ , as it would appear to undiscerning red eyes?”

For the first time, Eli turned to look at the man who bore such a painful resemblance to his younger brother. “I _am_ honored; I really am.”

“Then why do you not look it?” Thrass asked.

The brown of Eli’s eyes flickered slightly. “I’m just… I thought…” he trailed off with a sigh, turning to look down into his glass, “I don’t know what I thought.”

“I see,” Thrass said levelly.

And see he did.

He took a sip of his wine, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips against the glass as the beginnings of a plan began to ferment in his mind....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary of Cheunh terms I pulled out of my ass:
> 
> 1\. fess’hirt = a liquor distilled from conifers and berries, typically enjoyed only during the winter months. Yoinked from another of my WIPs. 
> 
> Also, O’Kee’fi is based on O’keefe. She didn’t make mobiles as far as I know, but she did paint a whole lot of “flowers,” and those mobiles ain’t eyes.


	2. Chapter One: "Good Day, Little Brother"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thrass plants the first seeds of his brother's 'destruction' before tearing him apart piece by piece.... ~~See what I did there? Because Rebels? Never mind.~~

Thrass settled into his desk chair, pulling up the comm control panel with a wave of his hand. The blue holodisplay hovered before him, the light casting shadows on his handsome face. With a few movements of his fingers, he keyed in the code for the secure prototype transmitter Admiral Ar’alani had been instructed to pass on to Grand Admiral Thrawn.

He smirked—the lofty title still made him laugh. _Grand Admiral._

Having scheduled the timing of their communications ahead of time, Thrass did not have long to wait before the face of his brother manifested before him. Thrawn also appeared to be sitting at his own desk, but he in his Imperial white uniform rather than Mitth burgundy.

“ _Good day_ , Admiral Thrawn,” Thrass said with an unmistakably devious smile, his tone carrying no small amount of irony.

Thrawn blinked, then said carefully, “Hello, brother. It has been some time.”

“Yes, it has been some time, hasn’t it?” Thrass tilted his head as he said, “The uniform suits you.” The last time he’d seen Thrawn wearing white was when he’d gotten stuck in a curtain as a toddler, nearly breaking his nose bumping into the walls because he refused to ask for help getting the damn thing off.

“Thank you," Thrawn said. "Are you doing well?”

Thrass shrugged, tracing his finger in shapes on the surface of his desk. “Me? Oh, _I’m_ fine.”

His younger brother narrowed his red eyes. “Then who, by implication, is _not_ fine?”

“No one you need worry yourself about,” Thrass said, giving him a wink and a reassuring nod.

Thrawn’s entire body visibly tensed. “Is Commander Vanto not well? I was led to understand he was to be restored to his previous rank.”

“Interesting that’s where your mind goes, brother,” Thrass said impassively.

Thrawn did not hesitate. “He is the only other person apart from you for whom I bear responsibility. If he—or you—were unwell, I would hear of it.”

Thrass nearly snorted; apparently, Thrawn had already forgotten he'd sent them _two_ humans. Ronans didn't merit the same concern as Elis, apparently. “Again, it’s nothing you need concern yourself with," Thrass said calmly. "He is completely fine… physically,” he added with a minute shrug.

“He is… in some other form of distress?” Thrawn asked, his body not remotely relaxing.

“Well…” Thrass sighed, leaning back in his chair. “How do I phrase this?” He steepled his fingers in front of him in the familiar mannerism that both brothers shared. “The only people with whom he seems to be able to hold a friendly conversation—” he placed a hand over his chest, “apart from yours truly—are _children._ Navigators, to be precise.”

Thrawn frowned. “Navigators?”

“Oh yes, they are all quite smitten with him. It does make sense—they do not bear many of the same prejudices adults do, and they serve in the Fleet alongside him. Apparently, they seem to be able to sense a certain… what did that girl call it…” he furrowed his brow, pretending to struggle to recall the phrasing: “ _warmth of spirit_.”

The Grand Admiral folded his hands atop his desk, looking pensively at his fingers for a moment before looking back up. “The mind cannot thrive under conditions of alienation and his work is crucial to the well-being of the Ascendancy. Could you not avail yourself to him? Surely you do not find his company objectionable?”

“Me? Find _Ivant_ objectionable?” Thrass asked with a laugh. Using the Human’s core-name earned him a searching look from Thrawn that disappeared almost as soon as it surfaced. “Certainly I do not find his company objectionable—quite the opposite, in fact, but we both have our respective duties. The simple fact is that he spends more time in space than he does the Capital, and I haven’t even _been_ on a ship in a _decade._ ”

“Then perhaps he should spend more time on Csilla?” Thrawn suggested, his voice becoming somewhat tense.

“He’s only just been promoted, he can hardly start spending more time planetside _now._ What, you wanted to kill his career _here, too_?” Thrawn scowled visibly at that but Thrass did not relent. _“_ Perhaps if _you_ could make time for him in your oh-so-busy schedule, _Grand Admiral,_ he wouldn’t _feel_ so alienated…. Since it’s so important for his _work,_ ” he added with a slight roll of his eyes. Casting a glance at his chrono, he sighed, “I am afraid I really must go, brother. _Good day._ ”

Thrawn frowned more noticeably at that. “Good day," he said.

Thrass powered down the comm unit with a wave of his hand and leaned back in his chair.

His little brother was so easy to play it was almost _unfair._

_Almost._

* * *

Thrawn leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty space where his brother’s face had been.

When establishing a secure line of communication to the Ascendancy, Thrawn had been determined to _not_ use it to contact Eli Vanto.

The thought of the Human on his homeworld—without _him_ —was already enough to draw up a powerful well of emotions without having to actually _see_ it, too.

He knew from experience that his resolve was weak where the Commander was concerned. But if he were to maintain steady focus, to see his mission through to the end, he would have to be steadfast. If that meant never seeing Eli’s face again, then so be it. He’d bear the pain gladly if it meant keeping him—and the rest of his people—safe. At least, that is what he’d told himself at the time.

Thrawn shook his head ruefully, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with his fingers before steepling them against his lips. He remembered the last time he saw Eli. The chance meeting of their respective ships had been so unlikely, so _torturous_ , it was like he was being punished by some ancient, vengeful god.

Before the Chiss crew of the _Steadfast_ boarded the _Chimaera,_ he’d received an odd—and strangely amused—transmission from his old commander. Admiral Ar'alani's familiar, deep voice came over his comm, speaking in Meese Caulf.

“Greetings, Mitth'raw'nuruodo,” Ar’alani had said. “Before we board, you should know that many in the Aristocra—your brother included—are quite determined to have you return to Csilla _immediately_.”

Thrawn’s brow furrowed. “I do not doubt it,” he'd replied in the same language. “But why tell me this now? Could it not wait the ten minutes until you have boarded?”

She'd let out a single sharp laugh. “Because while I cannot be certain, there are whispers that he has enlisted the assistance of a certain Human to _convince_ you. Whether this is wittingly or unwittingly on Lieutenant Eli'van’to’s part, I cannot hazard to guess.”

Thrawn's heart had clenched briefly in his chest. “I understand: thank you, Admiral. I will see you shortly.”

Thrawn had watched Eli disembark the Chiss shuttle beside his new CO. He never thought of the CDF uniforms as particularly suggestive until he saw the way the black material clung to the Human’s body. Eli had looked so poised and confident compared to the young cadet he’d first met; he’d even seemed to have added a touch more muscle to his lean frame.

 _“Good day, Lieutenant Vanto,_ ” Thrawn had said, hardly sparing Eli a second glance before pulling the Admiral aside to the command room to continue their earlier discussion.

Before Thrawn turned away he could see the unmistakably-crushed look on the Human’s face through the corner of his eye. He knew it to be genuine—it was not Eli’s fault the Aristocra or Syndicate had pulled him into their scheming. That knowledge only made it harder.

Thrawn did not trust himself to be alone with the man knowing that if Eli begged him to leave the Empire—to come back with _him—_ he would be sorely tempted.

Like Thrass apparently suspected he might be…. And this had his name written all over it.

Thrawn really, _really_ resented politicians.

 _Especially_ the ones he was related to.

Later, in a moment of weakness, he’d broken, hurriedly asking Eli to parse the gralloc data in his own office… where they could finally be _alone_. When Assistant Director Ronan overheard and insisted that Admiral Ar’alani’s temporary office would be quite sufficient _and_ that he insisted on being _present_ for their discussion, Thrawn was almost grateful.

Almost.

The urge to _strangle_ the Assistant Director was temporarily overwhelming, but he did not let it show on his face.

Eli had just rolled his eyes. “This may as well be happening,” his face had seemed to say. The flicker of hurt he’d seen at their initial reunion never left those brown eyes, but merely became fogged by resignation.

Thrawn’s hands had twitched with the effort of not reaching out to his friend then and—as he had been doing for years—he merely folded them behind his back instead as he watched the man work, doing his best to ignore Ronan’s snide commentary.

When it became clear that they were in imminent danger, Thrawn could not help himself. He overstepped, wedging himself into the line of command between Ar’alani and Eli, sending him to Aloxor in search of hard evidence of a governor’s conspiracy.

“Give him the opportunity to earn your respect,” he’d told the pair of death troopers he’d ordered to guard the Commander-turned-Lieutenant. Lowering his voice, he added, “To guard Eli Vanto _is_ to guard me.”

The pair of black-armored men gave him a stiff salute.

Eli had not looked at Thrawn when he entered the hangar bay to board the shuttle to the distant planet. Ronan came shuffling behind him, casting the “traitor” occasional dirty looks.

Thrawn watched the shuttle depart, not diverting his gaze from the rising ship as he felt Ar’alani’s familiar presence approach.

“Is all this _really_ necessary?” She’d asked, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “Would it _really_ be so hard for you to resist his alien charms?”

Thrawn had not answered her, instead turning on his heel to return to the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> If you'd like me to name an OC after you, let me know in the comments--there are a few poor Imperial aides-de-camp coming up who could use a better name (it's not *their* fault they're not Eli Vanto...)
> 
> Also, this is my first time posting on AO3 and I am notoriously technologically inadequate, so bear with me. I've been out of the fanfiction game for over a decade.


	3. Chapter Two: "Good Day, Thrass"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eli catches a cold, and Thrass whips out his favorite silk robe to troll his brother while he's too far away to do anything about it.

Eli sat upon a cushion on the floor of his small apartment, sniffling and staring at the terminal in front of him. He had been assured by both Thrass and Admiral Ar’alani that the connection could not be traced by the Empire—that Thrawn _himself_ had devised the encryption to be completely unrecognizable _as_ communication by Imperial technology.

But that wasn’t what was strange.

Knowing he was waiting for a call from Grand Admiral Thrawn after a year of silence followed by a few days of complete cold indifference— _that_ was strange.

Almost as strange as being holed up on sick-leave with the Grand Admiral’s _brother_ of all people insisting on stopping by daily to bring him food, tea, or medicine.

It was a toss-up, he decided.

The melodic chime of an incoming transmission sounded and Eli waved his hand to accept the call. Thrawn appeared projected against the wall, looking more worn than Eli had ever seen him. Not that any other human would have been able to tell, he thought ruefully. He doubted anyone left on the _Chimaera_ would know to look after the Admiral when he refused to do it himself now that both he and Karyn Faro were gone.

“Admiral?” Eli asked cautiously, “Are you alright?”

Thrawn gave one of his minute, almost imperceptible smiles. “I am fine. The situation on Lothal is… less than ideal. But it is nothing that cannot be resolved, I assure you.”

Eli twisted his mouth skeptically but didn’t pursue it. Anything Arihnda Pryce had her slimy fingers in was bound to be a terminal cluster-fuck of bad.

Suddenly, he realized with a panicked clench of his stomach that past an initial greeting, he had no idea what to say to the man. He knew what he’d _like_ to say: very angry, very rude things... but also other things. Thankfully, Thrawn spared him from having to figure it out and continued, his voice as assured and poised as ever: “You are the one who does not look well, Commander. The hoarseness of your voice is beyond what might be expected from mere static distortion.”

Eli almost laughed. How many times during their long tenure together did Thrawn approach him with a frown, saying something like: “Cadet Vanto—your voice is approximately 1/16th of an octave lower than usual, and your skin appears three shades paler than is standard for your coloring. Do you require medical intervention?” or “Ensign Vanto—your facial heat has increased by approximately .25 degrees—I understand that this is a sign of potential illness among your species.”

Thrawn frowned when he did not receive a response. “Commander Vanto?”

Eli gave him a wry smile. “I’m fine, it’s just a cold. I’ve been ordered to take three weeks of bed rest, is all. But that’s not important.” He pulled his datapad toward him, sliding through the Navigators’ genetic data he’d been assigned to look through by high command. “I’ve been tryin’ to re-sort the data Admiral Ar’alani gave me now that I actually know what I’m lookin’ at, but…” he trailed off, seeing the somewhat tense expression on the Chiss’ face. “Sir? That _is_ why you wanted to speak to me, isn’t it? To discuss the data?”

Thrawn’s mouth opened slightly, then closed. “If you are ill, you should not be—“

Eli huffed, “—I’m not _dyin’_ sir, it’s just a measly _cold._ I’ll be _fine._ ”

“All the same, if you have been ordered to take sick-leave, that needs to be respected.” He considered a moment, then added, “Perhaps… we could discuss something else?”

Eli leaned back slightly in surprise. “Like what? It’s not like you can talk to me about what _you’re_ doin’, and I can’t exactly go broadcastin’ CDF business either… even if it is a secure channel.”

“No,” Thrawn agreed with a bow of his head, “but you could discuss the more… banal aspects of your life in the Ascendancy?”

Eli did laugh at that. “You want me to make _small-talk_?” They hadn’t done that since the three months before he’d left the Empire, and then it was only to facilitate his proficiency in the Cheunh language. Of course, back before the gap in their respective rank had gotten wider and wider, they’d spent many a late night in their shared quarters, talking about art, music, Lysatran folklore, the finer points of Basic idioms, and making fun of xenophobic crew members.

But that seemed like a lifetime ago at this point.

“It is not small to me,” Thrawn assured him. “It would be most welcome, in fact. What have you done this week?”

Eli frowned, giving his datapad one last glance before placing it behind him. He coughed into the crook of his arm and shifted slightly on his cushion. “Um, well I’ve been out on sick-leave for about six days, so there’s not much to tell about my week; I’ve just been here.”

“Has anyone been helping to care for you in your compromised state?” Thrawn asked, folding his hands atop his desk.

Eli tilted his head, giving him a crooked smile. “I’m not exactly on my deathbed, sir. But people are understandably reluctant to let me loose, being a _diseased alien_ and all.” He gestured vaguely around him, “Hence the unofficial quarantine.”

“That seems isolating.”

“It beats bein’ trapped alone on an unknown planet for six months,” Eli said with a smirk.

Thrawn smiled at that.

The smile rapidly disappeared at Eli’s next words: “It’s not so bad. Your brother has stopped by almost every day to bring medicine, fresh fruit, and a bunch of different kinds of tea I cannot even _begin_ to remember the names of… sir?” Eli frowned when he noticed the Chiss stiffen slightly.

“Thrass? Thrass has been by?” Thrawn asked quietly, flexing his hands. 

“Do you have another brother?” Eli asked. “Yes, _Thrass._ ” 

Unseen to Eli, Thrawn’s leg twitched at the sound of his brother’s core-name so casually spoken by the Human. Perhaps he simply did not appreciate the cultural significance of taking such a liberty? Surely that was it… a year would not be long enough to absorb _all_ the intricacies of Chiss culture. Still, he was fairly certain he himself had mentioned it….

Thrawn unfolded his hands, then did not seem to know what to do with them, and folded them again. He cleared his throat, and asked impassively, “What sorts of fruit?”

Eli’s face was amused. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Thrawn said a little too quickly. More calmly he added, “I would hear more about your daily life on Csilla if it is not too much of an imposition for you.”

Eli’s face softened sympathetically, misinterpreting Thrawn’s strange behavior as homesickness. “Of course it’s not an imposition. Maybe you can help me with the names because I can’t remember all of them.”

“Describe them, then.” 

“Sure. Let’s see… this morning he brought by these spiky white things that I haven’t tried yet, but every day he always brings these big red berries with blue spots. Supposedly they're good for the immune system, I guess.”

 _Koi’tas berries—it had to be._ The myriad cultural associations of the fruit—their depictions in erotic art and love poetry, even their chemical composition—flashed unbidden through Thrawn's mind. “Were they on a stem?” he asked with forced casualness.

“The berries, you mean?” Thrawn nodded and Eli continued, “No, they were loose. No stem or branch that I could see. A little bitter for my tastes at first, but I’ve actually been gettin’ a real cravin’ for ‘em…” he trailed off when he noticed the unusual expression on the Chiss’s face. “Sir? Are you _sure_ you’re alright?”

Thrawn stared at him for a few moments before saying, “Perhaps I underestimated my own exhaustion. These past few weeks have been… trying.”

“You should get some rest, sir.”

Thrawn nodded. “You as well, Commander. Please take care of yourself.”

Eli leaned back slightly when the transmission flickered away, leaving only the gray stone wall. His brow furrowed.

“Well, that was _fuckin’ weird._ ”

* * *

The moment Eli’s face disappeared from above his desk, Thrawn keyed in the contact code for his brother. He glared at the transmitter with murderous intensity as it made its melodic, waiting chime.

That sound could _k’tah_ itself, as far as Thrawn was concerned.

Several long minutes passed which Thrawn _strongly_ suspected were spent by Thrass purposefully and gratuitously making him wait on the other end. He forced his face to relax when the son-of-a-Chiss finally answered his call.

“Good day, brother,” Thrass said pleasantly. He was wearing his burgundy silk night robe, lounging with casual elegance on a black velvet settee in his office and drinking a glass of—

Thrawn narrowed his eyes dangerously.

_Koi’tas wine... the pompous blue bastard.  
_

“What is that you are drinking, brother?” Thrawn asked, forcing his voice to remain level.

Thrass glanced innocently at the glass, giving it a somewhat surprised look as if he’d forgotten it was even there. “Oh, this? I just had a craving for something bitter, is all.”

“A little out of season, isn’t it?” Thrawn asked, the faintest edge creeping into his voice.

“It can always be the season for _koi’tas_ … if the mood is right,” Thrass said with a small smile before taking a sip of wine. The liquid stained his lips slightly red, making them appear unusually purple.

“Is there a courtship I should know about?” Thrawn asked.

Thrass chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. “Not on _my_ end there’s not. Besides. It’s not the _41 st century_, Thrawn—it is possible to enjoy a glass of _koi’tas_ wine on occasion without it _meaning_ something.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “I suppose, then, that it is also possible to provide a person with _plucked koi’tas_ berries ‘without it _meaning_ something?’”

“Sure!” Thrass shrugged noncommittally. “Why not?”

“So you purchased them that way?” Thrawn asked coolly.

Thrass cast him a patronizing look. “The little human’s _ill,_ brother—I wasn’t about to make him _pluck his own berries._ ”

When Thrawn continued to stare at him, Thrass’ lips turned upward in a knowing smile. “ _Koi’tas_ berries are high in naturally-occurring zinc and vitamin-C, which—according to the documents _you_ sent along with Iv—“ he quickly shifted away from using the Human’s core-name, correcting to the more formal— “Eli’van’to—are beneficial to the human immune system, just as they are the Chiss.” Thrass smiled kindly. “But I am sure you already knew that: you _are_ the smart brother, after all,” he said fondly, leaving the second half of the frequently-dropped pair of compliments unspoken…

_Thrawn was the smart one…_

_But Thrass was the **charming** one._

“And are _you_ feeling unwell, brother?” Thrawn asked, nodding pointedly at the glass.

“Merely a precaution,” he said casually, taking a deep sip. “I don’t know how communicable Human diseases are to a Chiss, and I have been exposed on multiple occasions. The man is leaking places I’d prefer not to be leaking.”

Thrawn closed his eyes, rubbing at one of his temples with his fingers for a moment. “Fine,” he said.

Thrass sighed, “You really ought to get some sleep, little brother—you look _terrible._ ”

With that, Thrawn leaned forward, powering down the transmitter with a slam of his fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve tagged this fic “crack adjacent,” because while it’s not as cracky as it could be, it’s certainly as close as I ever get. I like to think of it as Shakespearean Comedy levels of shenanigans… but less… you know, good. (I just really love Much ado about Nothing, mkay??? Have you seen the David Tennant/Catherine Tate performance! Go! Go see NOW!) 
> 
> Continued glossary of Cheunh terms I pulled out of my ass and other places:  
> 1\. koi’tas . A berry that is crushed and fermented into the bitter-sweet wine used in bonding rituals; ancient poetry describes the berry itself as an aphrodisiac, but this would seem to be a result of sexual associations from the red lip-staining effect rather than any actual biochemical impact. Even so, it is still traditional for newly-bonded couples to feed one another koi’tas berries, and the action of plucking berries for another person his highly suggestive, in no small part due to the homophones between the Cheunh words for ‘pluck’ and ‘orgasm.’ Also, because of the presence of a certain chemical compound (koitanium), the flavor bears an uncanny resemblance to that of certain bodily fluids. If you think it sounds like the word “coitus,” you’re right: it does! Huh!
> 
> 2\. k’tah. An expletive meaning ‘fuck.’ Legends canon, sort of? It’s on Wookiepedia, anyway.


	4. Chapter Three: "Good Day, Mr. Wampa"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *imaginary crowd cheers "wamPAS wamPAS wamPAS!"* 
> 
> In which Eli just wants to be warm again, Thrawn develops a twitch anytime he hears his brother's name, and Thrass is perfectly innocent, thank you very much.

Eli groaned into his cup of herbal tea. His sore throat and runny nose had retreated but had mutated into the headache from hell. He winced when he heard a knocking at his apartment door.

Bundling all the blankets he owned tightly around his shoulders, Eli prepared himself for the inevitable chill that would sweep inside once he opened the door to the outside world.

Thankfully, Thrass stepped in quickly, closing the door behind him to conserve as much heat as possible. He was looking very dashing in a knee-length black coat and silk scarf in the House of Mitth’s signature deep burgundy.

With Eli’s headache-obscured vision, Thrass looked more like Thrawn’s twin than older brother. But somehow he couldn’t imagine the Admiral with his carefully-combed hair falling into his face so casually. Well… now he could. And it looked… another pang in his head drew him out of his inappropriate train of thought.

“Good day, Eli’van’to,” Thrass said cheerfully, holding out a large paper-wrapped bundle Eli hadn’t even noticed him carrying. “This is for you. A gift to aid you in your convalescence.”

Eli pushed down the urge to wince. The last time the Chiss had given him something "to aid him in his convalescence,” it had been a thick, unctuous medicine that tasted like tar would if you could convince a loth-cat to eat it and shit it out into a vial.

Eli accepted the bundle with a grateful smile, then hesitated. He was not remotely accustomed to receiving gifts from Chiss, and had no idea if he should unwrap it, save it for later, or sit on it like an egg and wait for it to unwrap itself.

Seeming to sense the issue, Thrass supplied helpfully, “It is customary to open a gift upon receipt.”

Eli smiled sheepishly at him and unfastened the neatly-folded black paper to reveal a thick, luxuriously soft burgundy blanket. Perpetually freezing, Eli wrapped it around himself and immediately felt warm relief. He sighed contentedly, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he savored the newfound heat.

Thrass chuckled. “It’s woven from wampa fur. Nothing warmer for a Csilla night.”

Eli smiled brightly. “Thank you so much,” he said as he pulled the blanket more tightly around him. “This is far nicer than I deserve.”

“Nonsense,” Thrass said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Every home on Csilla should have a _wa’mp’thana,_ and if the way you keep shivering is any indication, that goes double for Humans. Consider it a very late housewarming gift.”

Eli laughed shyly. “I don’t know what to say—thank you.”

Thrass inclined his head, then stiffened momentarily as if he’d just remembered something. “I don’t suppose you could do me a small favor?” he asked hopefully.

Eli shrugged. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

Thrass sighed, “I’m afraid I’ve gotten my timetable mixed up. I’m meant to be meeting with a Syndic of the Seventh Ruling Family, but I’ve only just realized I was meant to speak with _Thrawn_ to apprise him on the Fehr’ra situation.”

Eli frowned. “But I don’t know anything about that.”

Thrass smiled patiently. “I know you don’t, but could you call my brother and ask him to reschedule our conversation for, say… three hours from now?”

Eli blushed, feeling foolish. _Of course_ that’s what he’d meant. “Not a problem. I’ll call him now.”

Thrass sighed in relief. “Thank you.” He glanced at his chrono and said, “Now, I really must run. Stay warm, Eli’van’to,” he added before turning to the door. 

“Alright—and thanks again for the blanket!” Eli called after Thrass as he slipped from the apartment. A fresh gust of cold air blew through the room and Eli cocooned himself as tightly as possible as he shuffled over to the terminal like an oversized, burgundy space-penguin.

After kneeling upon the cushion before the comm terminal, Eli fingered the blanket lightly in his hands. It really was incredibly high-quality: very warm, but also very, _very_ soft. With a sigh, he punched in the code for Thrawn’s transmitter. Half hoping it would be a brief, formal exchange: half hoping he could just hear the man's voice for as long as possible.

“Commander Vanto? I am expecting an important call from Syndic Mitth,” the Grand Admiral said, not looking up from whatever he was scrolling through on his desk. 

Eli’s jaw tensed. “I apologize, sir, but your brother asked me to let you know he has overbooked himself, and requests that you reschedule your conversation for three hours from now.”

Thrawn maintained his focus on his reading as he said with the faintest, fraternal twinge of annoyance, “I do not suppose it occurred to him that in the time it took to call _you_ , he could just as easily have called _me_?”

Eli had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He was suddenly grateful to be an only child. “He didn’t _call_ me, he asked me in person because he was already _here._ ” Thrawn looked up at that, a single wrinkle marring his usually smooth brow as Eli continued, somewhat tightly, “I apologize if my call is such a nuisance, _sir._ ”

“What is that you’re wearing?” Thrawn asked out of the blue, narrowing his eyes slightly to get a better look.

Eli looked down, nonplussed, holding up the blanket. “It’s a blanket.”

“I can see that. Why do you have it?”

“Because Thrass gave it to me. Late housewarming gift, apparently. He seems to think I’m freezin’ all the time, which…” Eli let out a hollow laugh, “is not far from the truth.” 

Thrawn’s left eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly and his eyes narrowed to two red slits. “And he gave you this blanket in person, did he? Not by courier?”

“No…” Eli’s brow furrowed. “I already told you, he’s been comin’ in and out of here all week.”

“Please inspect the corners, lieutenant commander.”

“Sir?”

“The corners of the blanket. Please look at them and tell me what you see.”

There was no point in arguing with that tone, he well knew. Eli ran his hands along the edge of the blanket until he reached a corner. For the first time, he noticed a small sigil woven in golden thread. “It’s got some sort of gold embroidery.”

“Do you recognize it?”

Eli tilted his head. It looked like a Cheunh ideogram but in some sort of strange, old-fashioned blocky script that made it difficult for him to read. He recognized elements of it, though, and once his brain adjusted to the subtle differences in shape the familiar ideogram manifested clearly to his mind. “It says ‘ _ras_ ,’ sir.”

Eli looked up, to see Thrawn leaning forward on his desk, his mouth concealed by his folded hands. “Sir?” Eli asked hesitantly.

“Thank you, Commander Vanto. Consider the message received.” Thrawn said simply, before powering down the transmission on his end.

Eli glared at the blank wall and grumbled, “Nice seein’ you, too, buddy....”

* * *

Thrawn glanced at the chrono on his desk: two hours and fifty-six minutes until he could speak to his brother to demand an explanation… not that the explanation would be in any way honest or straightforward. But it would reveal much in what it did _not_ reveal.

And so he stared over his folded hands at the transmitter for the next three hours, thinking about that _damned_ _blanket_.

It was the blanket a warrior would present to his beloved as a token of his commitment to protect them from all harms: a testament to his physical prowess and cunning as a hunter, woven with care from the fur of his kill.

If the recipient found the giver satisfactory, it would be the blanket upon which they would—

Thrass’s call, in true Thrass-fashion, arrived late:

“So sorry about that,” his brother said, settling into his desk chair with a glass of wine. “My secretary has been on leave and it turns out I am _quite_ incompetent without someone to keep my schedule for me.” He laughed, “It’s a shame Ivant insisted on joining the CDF— _Ozyly_ knows I could use someone like him around the office.”

Thrawn wasted no time. “A _wa’mp’thana_ , Thrass? _Really_?”

Thrass shrugged defensively. “What? Have you _seen_ him in the cold? He’s like a baby _duhunu_ —it’s absolutely _pathetic_ , poor shivering thing.” He swirled his glass in his hand, a mischievous smile twitching at one corner of his mouth. “One would think you’d be grateful I’m here to keep him _warm_ for you.”

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “ _Explain yourself_.”

Another casual shrug. “Explain _what_? That he’s a _human_ , and Csilla is _cold,_ and blankets are _warm_?” Thrass scoffed, “Maybe I _am_ the smart brother after all.”

Thrawn’s voice was level, but his red eyes flashed with unspoken anger as he asked, “And how do you think it will look to others when they see a Mitth-burgundy blanket, embroidered with your _che’no_ on his _bed_?”

“Who in the name of Csilla’s seven moons said _anything_ about Eli’van’to’s _bed,_ Thrawn?” Thrass retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And who’d see it even if that _were_ where it was! The only one who ever visits him there is _me._ It’s not as if we’re selling tickets to his apartment like some kind of _exotic alien_ _exhibit_. In fact, _I_ vetoed that idea the moment Syndic Yzo suggested it,” he added, giving his brother a reassuring nod.

Thrawn leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. His handsome older brother had never been without at least three suitors pursuing him at any one time, from what he could recall. “I did not realize you still had your _wa’mp’thana._ ”

Thrass gave him a wry smile. "It’s just been in a closet collecting dust and would likely have remained so forever, waiting for me to find someone worthy of the gesture. Waste not, want not.”

Thrawn cocked an eyebrow at that. “That is a very human expression.”

“Yes, well, I’ve picked up one or two things.” Thrass’s face softened pensively. “I’ve never thought of Basic as a particularly _pleasant_ language, but there is something about Ivant’s particular manner of speaking that I find… intriguing.”

A muscle twitched in Thrawn’s left eyebrow. “Is Commander Vanto aware of the significance of the gift?” he asked neutrally.

Thrass gave him a bewildered look. “Why should he be? There _isn’t_ any.” When Thrawn simply continued to stare silently at him, he sighed. “Now, Thrawn,” he began in a condescending tone, “could a Chiss ever _really_ be attracted to someone like Ivant? I mean, if he were a _Chiss_ I imagine that with his—” he ticked off Eli’s qualities on his fingers, “—extraordinary intelligence, insight, undeniably-pleasing symmetry, beguiling quality of speech, and warm-heartedness, many would jump at the opportunity to lavish him with all the gifts of courtship…. But he’s _not_ —he’s _Human._ ” He laughed, “it’s not as if he could reproduce with a Chiss _._ No parent would consent to join their child to him!”

Thrawn did not point out the very obvious fact that they were men, and orphans, and that as a Syndic, Thrass did not require _anyone’s_ permission to enter into a courtship.

“Anyway!” Thrass declared, placing his hands down firmly on his desk. “We must discuss the Fehr’ra situation.”

“No we do not.” Thrawn said flatly, cutting off the transmission without warning.

Thrass blinked a few times. To no one in particular, he muttered, “Alright, that was just _rude…_ even for _Thrawn._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know wampas don’t come from Csilla, but… let’s pretend that one on Hoth just got lost visiting her cousin or something. 
> 
> More Cheunh!
> 
> 1\. wa’mp’thana, traditional blanket, woven from the fur of a wampa, often dyed in warm colors, or, in the case of ruling families, in house colors. Embroidery in the corners indicates the name of the hunter who killed the beast. Such trophies as these are common courtship gifts, used to demonstrate one’s prowess as a warrior, and suitability as a defender to a prospective mate. And if the recipient is agreeable, they roll out the blanket and have sex about it. 
> 
> 2\. Fehr’ra, the name of a person that Thrass pulled out of his ass. 
> 
> 3\. Duhunu, a small woodland creature with fluffy brown fur, sort of like a mix between a deer and a Chihuahua (if you can imagine such a thing--inspired by my dog).
> 
> 4\. Che’no, the sigil denoting someone’s name, used in signing contracts.


	5. Chapter Four: "Good Day, Lieutenant... Whoever"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thrawn makes some unThrawnlike poor judgment calls involving Corellian whiskey, his aide-de-camp is just trying not to get fired like the last eleven post-Vanto aides, Thrass pulls some strings behind the scenes, and Eli figures this may as well be happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains alcohol and alcohol-related regrets (i.e. a hangover).

Thrawn narrowed his eyes at the transmitter. 

Whatever Thrass might say to the contrary, his intentions had been made clear: he was courting Eli Vanto. The only questions that remained were: 1, for what purpose, and 2, was Eli even _aware_?

Surely Eli would not _wish_ to be courted by his brother…

…would he?

Certainly, Thrass had none of his own qualities that he knew frustrated the Commander to no end. He did not struggle with social graces and political subtleties the way his younger brother did. Thrass had the ability to be charming in any situation, to figuratively disarm with a handsome smile, or a witty anecdote.

Thrawn mostly just disarmed people literally.

Often with violence... sometimes with sticks.

Was it so strange to think that in his desolation the human would cling to a lone, friendly presence in an unwelcoming, alien world?

After all... hadn't _he_?

Thrawn knew he had no claim to Eli. He never made any of the overtures that would have marked him as unavailable to other Chiss. As his commanding officer, it would have been grossly inappropriate to make an advance. Even if power differentials had _not_ been a concern... there was just too much at stake.

With a single, frustrated breath he reached down into a drawer and pulled out the yet-untouched bottle of deep, red liquor gifted to him by Colonel Yularen upon his promotion to Grand Admiral and a single crystal glass. He poured himself a drink, pausing after the glass was a quarter of the way full, then continued pouring until it was almost to the top.

The back of his neck prickled with shame when he remembered their last meeting. The crushed look on the then-Lieutenant’s face when he’d formally said, “Good day, Lieutenant Vanto.”

Thrawn drained his glass in one before pouring another.

If there was a problem, Governor Pryce could handle it.

It wasn’t as if any problems on Lothal weren’t entirely _her fault,_ anyway _._

* * *

Thrawn awoke the next morning to the melodic chimes of an incoming Chiss transmission. He blinked his red eyes open and realized with no small amount of revulsion that his face was plastered to his desk with drool. Wincing, he straightened in his chair, clutching his throbbing head with his hand.

He’d witnessed Eli in a similar state—what he’d called a “hangover”—the morning after he’d received his first assignment as Thrawn’s aide. From what he remembered, two ion tablets, a tall glass of water, and a great deal of self-recrimination and oaths to never drink again would cure him of this ailment.

The chiming of the comm continued, echoing painfully in his ears. He winked open one eye to see the incoming transmission’s origin ID.

_Of course, it would be Thrass... prick._

At the same time, his Imperial comlink dinged on his desk. He reached blindly for it, held it to his mouth and croaked, “Admiral Thrawn." When there was no reply he furrowed his brow. He closed his eyes and sighed. It hadn’t been his comlink… it had been his kriffing _door._

A nervous Lieutenant appeared in the doorway. She advanced warily, like a person approaching a loth-wolf to remove a thorn from its paw, wanting to help but also aware the beast could turn on her at any moment. Since Eli Vanto’s mysterious and tragic disappearance the Grand Admiral had gone through no fewer than a dozen aides, firing them for increasingly ridiculous and arbitrary reasons. Her own cousin had been fired because, unlike Vanto, _she_ could not compute large sums on demand without the aid of her datapad. It was not necessary for her work, but as the Admiral had explained it then: he just felt better knowing his aide _could_ do it _._

She cleared her throat. “Uh, good morning, sir. You haven’t been answering your comlink; we were worried, sir.”

“Apologies, Lieutenant Kinder,” Thrawn said, massaging his temples with his fingers. “I was deep in contemplation…” he coughed lightly, the dryness of his throat hitting him hard all of the sudden, “…of some art,” he finished weakly. 

The Lieutenant shuffled slightly, her facial glow increasing. “It’s actually Lieutenant _Deevo,_ sir. You dismissed Lieutenant Kinder two months ago.”

Thrawn narrowed his eyes at the young woman. He could have sworn that was Lieutenant Kinder. No… the hair color had been different. “You have not been serving as my aide for two months,” he stated, more to himself than the Lieutenant.

“No sir, I have been serving as your aide for three days? Replacing Lieutenant _Vash_ , sir.”

Ah. It was all coming back to him. He had fired Lieutenant Kinder because she could not speak Sy Bisti. She was replaced by a young man from the Outer Rim who _could_ speak Sy Bisti, and so he obviously had to be fired. Thrawn did not need that sort of painful daily reminder of the gaping void in his life, thank you. Speaking of gaping voids, his brother was apparently unwilling to believe Thrawn was unavailable, and the transmitter continued to chime insistently.

“Very good, Lieutenant…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely before settling on, “ _Not_ -Kinder. What is it?”

Lieutenant Not-Kinder pursed her lips and said, “Governor Pryce is waiting for you in the conference room, sir: she says it’s urgent. Something about a—and these are her exact words, sir—a ‘kriffing Jedi’ and a … ‘Twi’lek schutta?’”

Thrawn groaned into his hands, raking his fingers through his hair. “I will see Governor Pryce when I am _ready_ to see Governor Pryce. Just…” he sighed, “get her some caf or something. No,” he corrected, “tea. _Herbal_ tea.” That woman did not need the additional stimulation of caffeine: she was intense enough.

“Understood, sir. Um, sir?” She hesitated, eyeing the strange transmitter that had been chiming loudly on his desk since before she’d entered. “What is that?”

“What is _what_ , Lieutenant?” he asked.

“That thing on your desk making that chiming noise. It doesn’t look like any transmitter I’ve ever seen before, sir.”

“I do not see anything, Lieutenant,” he said levelly, “and I order _you_ not to see anything either. Dismissed.”

She gave a stiff nod of acknowledgment before turning on her heel and leaving the office at a pace that should not have been possible for someone not lifting both feet off the floor at once.

Thrawn tossed his comlink unceremoniously onto his desk, and it skidded weakly across the wood, teetering on the edge precariously for a moment before tumbling off with a thud. His lifeline to the Ascendancy continued to chime.

Ignoring the call, he forced himself to stand from his chair to take a long, long shower.

And if he drowned that was just _fine._

* * *

“So…” Eli narrowed his eyes in apprehensive puzzlement as he watched Thrass unfurl a large, black scroll across his desk. “Why do I need to do this again?”

Thrass pulled out an elegant silver pen. “Because without a _che’no_ , you essentially do not legally exist in Csilla society. And, as whatever…” he hedged slightly, " _work_ it is you’re doing for Admiral Ar’alani has been keeping you planetside for extended periods of time, it would be prudent for you to acclimatize yourself more completely into the local culture.”

Eli frowned, looking down at the grid of assorted name-seals of all the Mitth to come before. He noticed an elaborate oval filled with the stylized symbols for _Mitth_ (aurora), _Raw_ (2nd), and _Nuruodo_ (valor) on the right-most column. It was the last seal stamped, followed by a series of empty squares. In the center of Thrawn’s _che’no_ was a neatly burned hole.

Thrass saw where Eli’s gaze was fixed and sighed, “Such a waste of a name.”

“Can’t his name ever be restored to the Mitth family?” Eli asked hopefully.

Thrass shook his head. “An exile is not eligible for adoption: not even by a Syndic, I’m afraid.”

Lightly, Eli traced his fingers over the silver _che’no_ of his former CO, feeling a wave of sadness suddenly crash over him. Forcing himself to divert the subject away from Thrawn, he said, “I didn’t think officers in the CDF had family names _or che’no_.”

Thrass tilted his head. “Not officially, no," he conceded. "But most of them do, even if they don’t advertise the fact. The CDF likes to pretend it is immune from Ruling Family politics, but it’s not.”

Eli twisted his mouth. “Well, maybe Chiss in ruling families can get away with bending the rules, but I very much doubt that _I_ could.”

“But if you did this you _would_ have some measure of protection,” Thrass pointed out. Eli did not appear convinced, and he sighed, “Look, I’ll be frank: your name is weird. Any time you sign a document, you are just advertising the fact that you are not a Chiss. Having a proper _che’no_ will smooth a lot of barriers for you.” He snapped his fingers. “Like how you couldn’t get your own apartment lease, and _I_ had to sign the contract for you? Don’t you _want_ to be more self-sufficient?”

Eli twisted his mouth. “I suppose…" he said cautiously. "But I wouldn’t need to use it all the time, right? Just for legal documents?”

“Exactly," Thrass said with a charming smile. "As far as anyone else is concerned, you will still be Eli’van’to, unless you choose to tell them otherwise.”

“Okay, fine…” Eli relented.

“Excellent!” Thrass dipped his pen in silver ink and drew an oval. “Now to choose the characters…” he paused, thinking for a few moments. “Do you prefer El’iva, Eli’van, or Eli’vano?”

Eli wrinkled his nose. “So, my Core name would be either Eli or Eliv?”

“No, it would be Theli or Theliv.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Thrass sighed, giving Eli a patient look. “As I have already explained, having a _che’no_ will offer you certain protections. But you cannot _have_ a _che’no_ without a family name.”

“And my own family name doesn’t count?”

“What, ‘ _Vanto?_ ”" Thrass laughed. “No, of course not.”

“So… you’re proposing I just _borrow_ yours, then?" Eli asked, his previous skepticism creeping back in. "Is that even legal?”

“Completely legal," Thrass assured him with a dismissive wave. "Think of it as earned during your long years of service to my brother,” he said cheerfully.

Eli sighed, slouching back into his chair. “What do the characters for El’iva look like?”

On a spare piece of parchment, Thrass quickly wrote out the ideograms for “breath” and “sun” and slid it across the table to Eli. “A most appropriate choice, given the past occupation that brought you here.”

“Because of the linguistic link between breath and language, you mean?” Eli shrugged, “Alright, let’s go with that.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, watching as Thrass carefully traced the symbols in what was doubtlessly a prearranged, traditional format.

The Syndic copied the _che’no_ onto a small piece of paper, blew on it to dry the ink, and passed it to Eli. “There is your new _che’no_. You practice writing it, and meanwhile, I’ll have this submitted to the proper channels for processing.”

Eli stared apprehensively at the paper in his hands. “And you’re _sure_ I can’t get in trouble with the CDF for this?”

“Theli,” Thrass said patronizingly, “have I _ever_ steered you wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not pictured: drunk Thrawn finding the back-up Corellian whiskey and singing along to Radiohead’s “Creep” because Eli is “so fucking special” and his “skin makes him cry.” But I didn’t want to show you Thrawn in such a state, because he’s been feeling pretty vulnerable lately and I respect him too much to do that to him, bless.


	6. Chapter Five: "Good Day, Roommate"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thrass decides it’s a real shame for Eli to have to live all by himself in that cold little apartment, and Eli realizes one or two things about Chiss culture he feels really ought to have been covered in orientation.

The best part about the CDF, Eli mused, was the extended periods of leave granted throughout the year. The Chiss were convinced that morale was paramount to the effectiveness of the fleet and that the best way to keep everyone productive and efficient was to send them home as much as possible for “planetary defense.” Even during his first year in the Ascendancy, he’d been sent back to Csilla for a total of two months—and that was _before_ becoming an officer.

At first, he’d assumed it was because the crew was sick of explaining things to him all the time, but nope: that was just how the Chiss worked.

During his four-week Spring leave, he’d received a desperate call from Mitth’ras’safis. Eli arrived at the imposing Mitth ancestral home to find the man holed up in his office, looking decidedly flustered, surrounded by piles of unorganized data cards.

“I really do appreciate this, Commander,” Thrass said as he watched Eli sort through his files on his datapad. “I realize working is not generally the way most officers would wish to spend their Spring-leave.”

Eli shook his head dismissively as he rearranged a few files. “I don’t mind at all—you’ve been such a help to me, it’s really the least I could do. Besides," he said with a small shrug, "I’ve always found this sorta thing relaxin’.” He looked up at Thrass and frowned. “How long has your assistant been away?”

“Three weeks…” Thrass's face fell into a wry expression. “And it is starting to look _permanent._ ”

Eli whistled, looking back down at the datapad. “Just three weeks, huh?”

“She was hired as a personal favor to a friend. But now it seems that she’s gotten over her flight of fancy to pretend to actually need to _work_ for a living, and has returned to her parents’ mansion.”

Eli smirked. “With all due respect, sir,” he said as he held up the datapad, “if this is any indication, I don’t think she ever _was_ working.”

Thrass groaned, bracing his hands behind his neck as he leaned back in his chair. “Help me, Commander, you’re my only hope.”

Eli shook his head in amusement as he settled into a chair. “Alright, but only because the CDF won’t pay to heat my apartment over 7 degrees and it’s actually warm in here… by Chiss standards, anyway,” he added with a grumble.

The Chiss gave Eli a curious look for a few moments, then said, “You know, since you’re going to be working for me for the foreseeable future, and _Ozyly_ -knows I don’t need all this space—why don’t you move into one of the unused wings? You can take Thrawn’s old rooms.”

Eli frowned. “That’s… awfully generous, Syndic.”

Thrass shrugged. “It’s hardly an imposition; you’re away with the fleet for most of the year anyway.” He smiled and said, “Tell you what: why don’t you move in for a bit of a trial—a few days or weeks, whatever suits you best—and if you decide Mitth-Manor life is not for you, I will have my people help you move back into your apartment, no questions asked. Besides,” he added with a mischievous grin, “I intend to make _ample_ use of you.” 

* * *

Eli felt an odd mix of exhilaration and self-reproach when he stepped into the rooms Thrawn had occupied before his exile for the first time—like he was sneaking somewhere forbidden. That was ridiculous, of course: he’d been escorted there by two Mitth servants, for frack's sake.

Unlike the rest of the estate, this section of the manor was so undeniably _Thrawn’s._ Rather than the parlor that graced the entry to most of the bedroom suites in such estates, Thrawn had a small library. Every inch of wall that was not covered in shelves was filled with paintings, sculptures, and even a few kinetic works of art.

Eli let his fingers trace the spines of the books as he circulated around the space. He stopped when he reached a large black door and with a protesting groan of hinges, pushed it open.

Dominating the room was a huge, wine-red-draped bed. He’d only known Thrawn to sleep on small stiff cots on starships or bedrolls, and even the ground on several occasions. Imagining him spread out on such a generously-appointed, opulent bed was….

Eli cocked an interested eyebrow.

There was no denying how good his blue skin would look against that red.

Snapping himself out of it, Eli stepped back into the library. He’d thought it very peculiar when Thrawn gave him his journal: an actual, physical _book_. It was unclear if it was a peculiarity of Thrawn or a commonality among the Chiss to favor bound volumes over holos and datapads. There was certainly an art to the craft of bookbinding that he knew the man would appreciate—an intimacy, even.

Eli flushed slightly, grateful there were no Chiss around to witness him getting flustered over bedspreads and book bindings through the infrared. He stepped behind the large granite desk and sat in the comfortable, leather chair. There were a few books stacked to the side, possibly just as Thrawn had left them as a twenty-six-year-old man. 

With a fond smile, Eli pulled the first book toward him: it was a primer in Basic. Flipping through the pages, he saw that the margins were full of handwritten notes in red ink. He stopped to examine one of them and laughed out loud. Beside an example Basic sentence that read “All the training he had had had had no effect on the outcome of the battle,” was a Cheunh note reading: “This language defies all sense and I hate it immensely.”

“Guess you really _did_ need a tutor…” Eli muttered to himself amusedly as he scanned the pages, stopping whenever he saw familiar handwriting to read what Thrawn had written.

* * *

It had now been three weeks since Thrass’s last call from Thrawn; the man had missed two of their prearranged comm-meetings in a row and was not answering any of his transmissions.

It was a shame: Thrass was really looking forward to the look on his brother’s face when he informed him that Eli’van’to was now _his_ aide, and so his brother could stop his worrying about the blanket and berries, secure in the knowledge that no sexual tension _ever_ blossomed out of such a relationship.

He hoped his brother's silence was a sign that his plan was working… and not that he was too late.

Still, there was no sense in worrying Eli’van’to over it.

The human had settled nicely into Thrawn’s old rooms, and Thrass dared say that he was considering making the House of Mitth his residence for the foreseeable future.

Thrass leaned back in his chair, smiling in self-satisfaction as he enjoyed his morning cup of _cha’i_. Eli entered his office, nose buried in his datapad as usual.

Without looking up, Eli said, “I’ve finally got a hold on these import figures, but there are still some discrepancies in the totals that I don’t think can be fully accounted for by your last assistant’s incompetence.”

Thrass raised an eyebrow. “You suspect corruption?”

Eli scrunched his nose. “I wouldn’t go _that_ far, but I do think they are worth checking out.”

“Very good, thank you,” Thrass said. He placed his hands on either side of his desk, framing the comm controls between his fingers. “Now, I have a technological question for you.”

“Afraid I’m not the best person to help you out with that,” Eli said with a self-deprecating smile.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Thrass said pleasantly, gesturing for Eli to approach. “When sending a transmission, there is an identification tag that accompanies each call. I wish to know if whatever _witchcraft_ is accomplishing that could _also_ be used to send a text-based message.”

Eli shrugged. “I don’t see why not, but I wouldn’t have a clue about how to go about it.” He nodded at the comm. “That relay is like nothin’ we’ve got in the Empire. Would you like me to call a tech for you?”

“Yes, I would. But not just yet. First, we must discuss the _Ozyly-esehembo h’ka_.”

The human frowned. “That’s the festival for the Navigators hosted by the Ruling Families, right?”

“Indeed it is," Thrass said. "Have you ever attended one of the festivities?”

Eli resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was an alien and, at the time of last year’s festival, the lowest of the low in the CDF ranks. Of _course_ he had not been invited by one of the ruling families to attend. Rather than point that out, he only said, “No I have not.”

“Well, you will, of course, be attending the Mitth festivities this year," Thrass said with a tone that left no room for argument. "Given how friendly you are with so many of the _Ozyly-esehembo_ , I think it’s only right that you be there for them during their night of celebration.”

Eli wasn’t sure what was worse: Coruscant functions or Chiss ones. He’d always stuck out like a sore thumb at both and he could never quite figure out what to do with himself. He always ended up drinking too much just to have something to do other than hyper-focus on how much he didn’t belong there. At least in the Empire, Thrawn was right there with him, not-belonging at his side. Still, if the over-eager look on Thrass’s face was any indication, there was no getting out of this one. Surrendering himself to his socially-awkward fate, he nodded.

“Excellent,” Thrass said cheerfully. “I shall alert the tailor.”

Eli blanched. “The _what,_ now?”

* * *

Governor Arihnda Pryce huffed impatiently as she pressed the call button outside the Grand Admiral’s office for the fifth time. With a growl, she punched the button with crushing force, pressing her fist against it until it cracked beneath her hand.

After a few moments of what was doubtlessly a very unpleasant sound when heard from within, the door hissed open.

“Finally,” Pryce muttered with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Come on, then; We have strategizing to get to," she called out. "I need to know just what it is you plan to _do_ about these _insurgents_ , Admiral—”

She stepped into the large dark office and cocked an eyebrow when she heard no response. With a wave of her hand, she activated the overhead light, her eyes widening at the sight of the disaster before her. The assorted artworks that typically graced the Grand Admiral’s office were strewn about the floor. The section of retaining wall he’d kept for Sabine Wren’s graffiti was a pile of rubble. Even the sculpture from his personal collection—a metal casting of ysalamiri—was warped into a V, as if it had been cracked over someone’s knee.

Her pale eyes raked the room as she reached for her comlink but did not see any sign of the Chiss. Behind the desk, she noticed, was a black-booted foot. Darting forward, she reached for the shock-stick she kept holstered at her belt. Crumpled in a heap behind the desk were two unconscious death troopers.

“Oh, frack my week,” she muttered before leaning forward to press the intercom button on the Admiral’s desk. “This is Governor Pryce to _all personnel_ ,” she barked, “This is a _code zero_! I repeat, a _code zero!_ ”

* * *

After a long day of attempting to identify a pattern in the Navigators’ genetic information, Eli settled himself in the library at Thrawn’s desk. Having finished skimming the Basic primer for Thrawn’s own handwritten insertions, and a book of Chiss nature poetry that he _knew_ he could not fully appreciate, he moved on to the next book in the stack.

It was a large indigo tome full of reproductions of ancient Chiss star maps, each with an accompanying description of the constellations present and the myths that inspired them. Settling himself comfortably in the chair, he began to read the stories of Chiss mythology, fondly remembering the Lysatran myths he’d shared with Thrawn in the early days of their friendship.

Eli looked interestedly through the different stories, smiling when he saw the Wayward Traveler constellation. Opposite the star map was a short description and an ink illustration of the man depicted in the origin story—his high cheekbones and steely gaze reminded him powerfully of a certain-someone. He ran his fingers over the star-strewn face before turning the page.

Had anyone been there to witness it, they would have seen Eli Vanto’s expression cycle through a startling parade of emotions: first curiosity, then embarrassment, then delight, then sadness, then _recognition_ , followed by confusion, then _more_ recognition, and yet more confusion, a flash of doubt, and finally…

… apoplectic rage.

Eli slammed the book shut with a growl before tucking it under his arm and storming toward Thrass’s office on the other side of the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chiss fun facts that I made up:  
> 1\. Ozyly-esehembo h’ka, an annual holiday honoring the Navigators. Festivities are hosted by all the ruling families. It is traditional—and expected—for Syndics to fight over collecting the most intriguing and illustrious guest-list, and use it as bragging rights for the rest of the year.


	7. Chapter Six: "Good Day, Lovers"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thrass just took a DNA test; turns out he’s 100% that Chiss.

“Ah, good day El—“

**BAM!**

Thrass jumped back as a large book was **slammed** onto the desk in front of him.

Eli was glaring daggers at him as he opened to the page he'd marked and slid it forcefully toward the man, demanding, “What the fresh hell is this?!”

“A book; do they not have books on your world, commander?” Thrass asked coolly.

“Don’t get smart with me, you devious prick. I meant _that!_ ” he snapped, jabbing a finger at the reproduced painting on the right-hand page.

With a bemused frown, Thrass looked down at the open book on his desk. It was a 38th-century painter’s depiction of _The Lovers,_ the mythical figures immortalized in the constellation that contained Csilla’s binary polar stars.

There was a pair of nude Chiss men, lying atop a red fur blanket in a snow-strewn forest, spooning back-to-chest. They were naked, their bodies adorned with constellations of gold paint. The legs of the man in the foreground were spread wide in a position that defied both anatomical sense and the laws of physics, making himself … _available_ to the exceptionally well-endowed man behind him. The so-called “beloved” man’s red-tinted lips were parted as he was fed _koi’tas_ berries by the “lover” from behind. 

“It is a painting—a bit old-fashioned for my tastes but…” Thrass's face fell slightly as he took in the details. “Ah,” he added with the tone of a child who has just been informed that his parents received a personal holo-call from their teacher, thereby discovering that he has not, in fact, been turning in his homework as he’d so-claimed.

Thrass recovered quickly, as politicians so often do, and said, “Art is just so _subjective,_ don’t you agree?”

“Not really, _no_.” Eli snapped, his brown eyes flashing with anger. “I think this is actually pretty fuckin' straightforward. Everything you’ve been doin’—the visits, the fruit, the blanket, the _che’no,_ movin’ me in here—I thought it was just you bein’ nice to me, but it was all some twisted, fucked-up, convoluted Chiss _foreplay!_ ” he finished with a growl.

Thrass sighed loudly, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a carafe of liquor and crystal glass. As he poured himself a generous drink he grumbled, “Figures you’d find all the answers you’d ever need in an _art book._ ” He sighed wearily, raising his glass to his lips and muttering, “F _ucking_ _typical,”_ before draining it and pouring another. “Oh, I’m sorry—did you want a drink, babe?”

Eli glared daggers at the Chiss. 

“Fair enough,” Thrass shrugged.

“Just tell me the hell is goin’ on before I get _violent_ ,” Eli growled.

Thrass swirled his drink in his hand and said, “First of all, I have no interest in courting you, Eli’van’to. Further, I assure you I had the best of intentions. Everything I did, I did out of concern for my brother’s life.”

Eli snorted doubtfully.

Thrass exhaled sharply. “I’d _hoped_ that you’d be able to convince him to come home last autumn, but when that failed, I had to devise other plans. It is _urgent_ that he leave Imperial space.” He traced his finger along the rim of his glass. “You see, the reason people tend not to socialize with the Navigators is not unkindness or discomfort with their abilities, but… _other_ concerns. Security concerns.”

Eli frowned, and very-Thrawn-like demanded, “Explain.”

Thrass leaned back in his chair. “Once the girls get attached to a person, their usual nocturnal Third Sight visions tend to deviate away from the Ascendancy in general, and toward the concerns of _that_ person in particular. In your case, that would seem to have led to an uptick in visions about Mitth'raw'nuruodo amongst the Ozyly-esehembo you’ve befriended.”

Eli shifted slightly, feeling the back of his neck flush. “So?”

“ _So_ , one of the girls had a vision of Mitth'raw'nuruodo being killed in battle,” he sighed wearily, “being carted off to his death by _space whales,_ of all things. Pretty classically _Thrawn_ to die in such an ostentatious and obscure fashion _,_ but all the same it’s a future I’d like to _avoid_.”

Eli stared at him, his stomach wrenching. He himself had seen irrefutable proof of the Navigators’ ability to see into the future with their Third Sight. “In this vision,” he asked, the calmness of his voice belying his inner-turmoil, “was he wearin’ a uniform?”

“Yes," Thrass answered. "The whites of an Imperial Grand Admiral. And he was on an ISD, bearing a beast painted in white beneath its hull.”

 _The Chimaera,_ Eli thought, moistening his lips with his tongue, his mouth suddenly gone dry. “And… how often do these sorts of visions actually come true?”

“If nothing is done? About 8 times out of 10.”

“And if something _is_ done?”

Thrass shrugged. “About 4. Sometimes the vision itself is actually the primary catalyst that sets those events in motion, and that’s always tricky,” Thrass admitted. “But in this case, I think it’s safe to say that if Mitth'raw'nuruodo leaves the Empire permanently, he will not be attacked by an insurgent pod of gas-guzzling giant fish over _Lothal_ ,” he finished with a scowl of distaste before taking another sip of his drink.

Eli sat still for several minutes, digesting the information. He didn’t know what he was expecting to happen after he confronted Thrass… but it sure as hell wasn’t _that._

Eli grimaced. “Space whales? _Seriously_?”

“ _Seriously_."

Eli ran his hands through his brown hair, sending it sticking up at odd angles, and sighed. “Let me guess. You didn’t confide in me before because you thought I’d tell Thrawn the truth, and he’d insist that knowing about the space whales would give him the tactical advantage required for victory in whatever battle it was, and be even more determined to _not_ come home?”

Thrass leaned back slightly in surprise. That was an eerily accurate assessment. He gave the man a wry smile as he said, “It really is both amazing and tragic that you two found each other.”

Eli shook his head ruefully, biting his lip. “If I’d known about this before I could’ve figured something out.” He let out a dry laugh, “beyond the point now, though, ain’t it? Short of risking a galactic incident and _kidnapping_ a Grand Admiral, there’s not much we can do to convince him if he won’t even answer his comm.”

Thrass nodded. “That is also my understanding of the situation, yes.”

“You’re a real prick, you know that, Thrass?” Eli asked.

“Yes,” Thrass said, inclining his head.

“Well good. So long as you know,” Eli huffed as he folded his arms across his chest. “I sincerely hope that what you've told me isn’t _actually_ your plan and that lyin’ to me more is just part of some much more elaborate scheme to bring Thrawn home.”

Thrass arched a dark blue eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“Because it would never _work,_ ” Eli laughed humorlessly. “Why should he care if you’re courtin’ me?”

Thrass frowned. “Seriously?”

“ _Yes_ , _seriously,_ ” Eli spat.

Thrass stared at Eli like he was some sort of baby animal, struggling for an object just out of reach, and he was debating whether he should just nudge it over to him, or spare the species the evolutionary pain and kick him off a cliff before it got the chance to reproduce. “I was told you were intelligent. Surely you must realize the significance of Thrawn’s trusting you with his words, his life, and then the lives of _all his_ _people_ when he sent you to Csilla?”

Eli shrugged, and pointed out, “He sent _Ronan_ to Csilla.”

Thrass scoffed, “Yes, as a _joke._ But _you—_ “ he pinched the bridge of his nose with his hands and groaned loudly, “You two really are made for each other: you are both the most brilliant, most frustrating idiots I have ever _met._ ” He glared at the blank look Eli was giving him. “He’s completely in _love with you_ , you absolute tool.”

Eli stared at him a moment, then laughed.

And then he laughed some more.

As he wiped a tear of mirth from his brown eyes Eli said, “You really think Thrawn would get so _jealous_ over _me_ he’d abandon his mission and come _chargin’_ back to Csilla to—what—sweep me off my feet and save me from the ravages of his brother like some sorta Lysatran Chiss-tale?”

Thrass narrowed his eyes. _When the human said it, it all sounded rather stupid._ “Well, apparently _ordering_ him home has not worked. So what would you propose we do _instead_?”

Eli snorted derisively, “Well, _not_ _that._ It’s all so contrived it sounds like somethin’ out of a terrible holo-romance, where all the characters are fawning idiots and all the dialogue is just there as filler between the smut. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that’s where you got the inspiration for this krayt-shit idea.”

Thrass tilted his head in puzzlement. “What is ‘krayt-shit?’”

Eli cast him a withering look. “Oh, c’mon, Thrass: learn to read a fuckin’ context clue.”

The Chiss folded his arms across his chest. “You think you know my brother so much better than me, do you?” he asked challengingly.

Eli imitated the gesture. “Apparently, I _do_.”

Thrass gave him a pitying smile. “I am sure you appreciate a great deal about his character, Eli’van’to. But one thing that you will _never_ be able to understand is the peculiar love and rivalry that exists between Chiss brothers. _It’ll work_.”

Eli shook his head doubtfully, occasionally chuckling in wry amusement. After a minute, he remembered something. “You asked me before if the relay could transmit a text message. What did you send to him, anyway?”

Thrass’s mouth spread into a slow, mischievous grin. He looked so much like the Chiss of Lysatra lore that Eli felt the sudden urge to run. “Nothing much. Just let him know you were settling in okay…”

“So you let him know that I’d moved in?" Eli asked flatly. "That’s _it_?”

“I may have also requested some additional information on human biology,” Thrass said quietly.

Eli narrowed his eyes. “What _sort_ of information?”

Thrass shrugged. “Oh, I just said I was curious if humans had an adverse reaction to certain chemical compounds. Specifically, those with a high concentration of koitanium, as that information was not readily available in the medical information you’d brought with you. More to the point, there is no way for that information to even exist, as you are the first of your species to spend an extended period of time among the Chiss.”

“And you look so damned pleased with yourself for that because…” Eli asked, impatiently waving his hand.

“Because I know Thrawn," Thrass said with a self-satisfied smirk. "And he will have put a great deal of research into… certain aspects of xenobiology the moment he began to consider… intriguing possibilities. Out of concern for your hypothetical safety, of course,” he added with a reassuring nod.

Eli scratched at the faint stubble on his jaw, a bored expression on his face. “If you’re gettin’ close to makin’ a point, I’d appreciate it if you’d just make it already.”

Thrass made an odd sort of face, and explained, “There are very specific _circumstances_ under which one might be likely to absorb a significant quantity of koitanium in Chiss space.”

“Like what, eatin’ _koi’tas_ berries?” Eli asked indifferently.

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact,” Thrass said with a slightly surprised tone.

“You really don’t have your brother’s talent for shootin’ from the hip, do you Thrass?” Eli grumbled.

Thrass folded his hands across his lap, muttering, “So _impatient._ ” He let out a short breath and deadpanned, “It’s the only chemical compound found in Chiss semen that is not also found in the Human body. There. _Happy_?”

“Oh,” Eli said neutrally, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands. Had he always had hands? What was he doing with them before, when he wasn’t so hyper-aware of the fact that he had these weird, fingered-things on the ends of his arm stubs?

“Yes: ‘ _oh_ ,’” Thrass mocked. “Fructose, sucrose, phosphorylcholine ergothioneine, ascorbic acid, flavins prostaglandins, and a whole host of other things found in Chiss semen are also found in humans' body chemistry, but _koitanium_ stands out as the sole element that does not naturally occur in your body. I would be willing to stake a great deal on Thrawn recognizing that fact, and immediately grasping the significance of the question.” 

“So… wait.” Eli held up a hand and asked, “You had him call me up right after givin' me _sex-blankets_ and _fuck-berries_ so he’d think you’d been dosin’ me all this time to make sure I’m _chemically compatible;_ was that the idea?”

“Yes.”

“And so now you're hopin' he’ll think you’re _goading_ him or something?” Eli asked, furrowing his brow.

Thrass nodded.

Eli had to hand it to the man. That was Nightswan-levels of deviousness. Thrawn had _never_ been able to resist one of Cygni’s “invitations.” Or at least, that’s how the Admiral had thought of them. Really, they were taunts—and the fact that Thrawn _recognized_ them as an attempt to goad him into a particular action only ever seemed to make him _more_ likely to follow through with said action. It was a peculiarity of his character that drove Eli to distraction.

But he still didn’t think Thrawn would allow himself to be maneuvered out of Imperial space just to meet his brother’s romantic challenge over _him,_ of all things.

“Maybe he’ll think some Chiss wants to fuck Ronan?” Eli suggested weakly.

“I sincerely doubt it,” Thrass said flatly.

Eli worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, thinking for a moment: _So wait… then do koi’tas berries taste kinda like…_ His stomach dropped when he had a horrifying realization: _he’d told Thrawn during their comm-call that he’d “been having cravings” for the fruit._

Having reached his daily limit for mortification, Eli exhaled sharply through his mouth and said, “Well, Thrass, this has been a… conversation. Let’s never do this again.”

“Agreed,” Thrass said, nodding to Eli as he watched the Human stand and turn to leave. When he reached the door, the Chiss called after him, “So then I’ll just put you down as a ‘no’ to the gold body-paint, shall I?”

Thrass did not understand the human cultural significance of extending a middle finger, but he gathered it was nothing good.

* * *

Needless to say, Eli moved promptly back into his old apartment. The first thing he did was scrunch up the wampa blanket given to him by Thrass and shove it unceremoniously into the back of a closet.

Since leaving the Mitth home, he’d received several messages from the man, each in increasing degrees of urgency.

<Are you still attending the Mitth _Ozyly-esehembo h’ka_?>

<I already told everyone you were coming.>

<I gave the tailor your address—you’ll need to wear burgundy to attend.>

 _< Please_ tell me you’ve declined Syndic Dhhol’s invitation.>

<Admiral Ar’alani will be there.>

<Ronan _won’t_ be there if that helps.>

<I will give you my liver if you come.>

<I do not know if you realize, but Chiss have only one liver, so that is quite the sacrifice on my part.>

<Okay, you caught me: Chiss have two livers, but the quality of life with only one is less than ideal for someone who drinks as much as I do.>

Eli did not respond to the messages. Even though he had not confirmed his attendance since moving out of the Mitth home, a strange man had appeared at his door one day, flanked by two young women carrying a large chest between them. He did not explain who he was or what he was doing there before stepping unceremoniously into Eli’s home, pulling out a laser-rule, and taking measurements of Eli’s arms.

“Uh…” Eli murmured, warily watching the man call out numbers while one of the attendants jotted them down on her pad, “Good mornin’?”

“Hin’tina? Bring out the Mitth _vev’vet_ ,” the man said with a sharp clap, ignoring the Human.

This was not Eli’s first experience being ignored by Chiss. He’d learned that no matter how good his Cheunh was, plenty of Chiss would simply refuse to believe that an alien could _possibly_ speak it, despite all evidence to the contrary. If he were accompanied by another Chiss, it was not uncommon for people to address Eli _through_ the other Chiss rather than speak to him directly.

Though, this was the first time it had happened in his own home… while having his thighs grabbed by a stranger while he measured their circumference.

One of the women opened the crate and dragged out a length of deep, burgundy fabric. The other woman took the opposite end and stretched it out behind Eli. “Syndic has ordered Mitth burgundy—will this _vev’vet_ suit?” she asked.

Eli, assuming the woman was not speaking to him, ignored her, opting to glare at the wall instead.

“Commander?”

“Oh, sorry!” he said, flushing slightly, “What was the question?”

“Will this fabric be okay? The Syndic specified that your alien skin was unusually sensitive.”

“I—” Eli flushed even more deeply. “It’s really not _that sensitive_.” When she continued to stare at him with a blank look, he added, “Yes, it’s fine.” 

And it was fine. It’s not like he was planning on wearing it anyway.

Angry wampas couldn’t drag him back to the Mitth compound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheunh Glossary of Terms:
> 
> 1\. cha’i is basically the same thing as chai, but Chissy.  
> 2\. Koitanium: I don’t know anything about chemistry (as you surely noticed), but I did do myself a google. If I die, could any FBI agents listening please clear my search-history?  
> 3\. vev’vet: a fabric like a cross between velvet and wool.  
> Also, Koitanium is a made-up element (obviously) because longtimeagofarfaraway.
> 
> ***So far as I know, the first use of gold paint in Chiss courtship rituals is in this sweet fic by Glass_Oceans: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13438740 . I use it in a slightly different way… as will become more EXPLICIT later, if you catch my drift *exaggerated wink*. If you haven’t already, definitely check that fic out! I started out with red paint because I thought it would look pretty striking on blue skin, but when I got a little carried away and started putting it… places… I decided I didn’t want anything blood-colored down there, so… I ended up with gold. Thrawn can rock both colors pretty hard.


	8. Chapter Seven: "Good Day, Admiral Thrawn"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ozyly-esehembo H’ka is here! The Navigators enjoy some well-deserved cake while absolutely nothing dramatic happens, nothing is broken, and nobody gets their hair pulled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter to write, so I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> In the endnotes there are some images that didn't inspire the outfits worn by the characters, but vaguely approximate my mental image. But if you scroll ahead, beware! There be spoilers down there!
> 
> Also, as I've mentioned I've been out of the fanfic game for over a decade, and waltzed over here like "Jabba the Slutt is a cool available name!" without thinking to check "Jabba the SLUT" like a complete tool. So....my bad. I'm WantonWhale now, and working on a tumblr of the same name, sooooooooooo.... *takes bite of cake*

When _Ozyly-esehembo H’ka_ finally rolled around, Eli awoke to the sound of his comm unit chiming from the living room in the particular tone that denoted CDF origins. He jumped out of bed—or tried to, rather: he was tangled in about a dozen blankets. The comm continued chiming at him mockingly as he struggled out of his woolen cocoon. After he finally managed to extricate himself, he did his best to straighten his unruly brown hair as he darted to the comm.

Eli knelt onto the cushion in front of the terminal, accepting the call with a wave of his hand.

Admiral Ar’alani manifested on his wall, looking stern yet undeniably comical due to the dozen-or-so girls struggling to peek over her shoulders. He recognized all their faces, of course: it was practically every Navigator he’d ever served with and befriended.

“Good day, Lieutenant Commander Eli’v—“ she grimaced as she was abruptly cut off by a chorus of chattering girls’ voices.

“Eli’van’to! We’ve been invited!”

“It’s my first one, Ivant! I’m so excited!”

“Can you believe it? The Mitth _Ozyly-esehembo H’ka_!”

“Vah’nya went last year, and she said they had a cake as tall as her!”

“And she’s _giant_!”

“You’re coming too, right Ivant?”

“We don’t want to go if _you’re_ not there, it won’t be any fun!”

“Oh, please, please, _please_! We want _cake!_ ”

Ar’alani closed her eyes and held up a hand. Immediately, all seven girls completely silenced, their little mouths pressed into firm lines. She looked at Eli and raised a pointed eyebrow.

Eli sighed in resignation. “Can I wear my uniform, Sir?”

She shook her head, and without a word cut out the transmission.

Eli let himself fall backward, landing with a thud on the floor. He ran his hands through his hair and groaned, “Fuck me with a vibrosaw.”

* * *

Looking sour and feeling like a tool, Eli stepped out of the transport in his custom-tailored, gold-embroidered burgundy suit and began the short walk to the main doors of the Mitth estate, his black boots crunching on the snow. Six tall women in impressive burgundy-piped black uniforms wielding gleaming halberds stood flanking the door. They gave their weapons two firm taps on the icy ground as he approached, the doors swinging open seemingly of their own accord.

The moment Eli stepped inside the Mitth estate, he was reluctantly impressed by the lavish beauty. The black ceilings had been completely filled with glittering lights that looked uncannily like stars as seen from space, casting the hall in a shimmering silver light. The main banquet hall was draped with Mitth-burgundy scarves entwined with the black of the CDF. The star-shaped symbol of the Sky-walkers shone upon bright silver tapestries, draped over dessert and drink-laden tables.

Eli stiffened as he looked around at the sea of mostly gray, white, and black outfits. He’d been under the impression that everyone attending the Mitth _Ozyly-esehembo h’ka_ would be wearing the house color of Mitth burgundy. He narrowed his eyes when he noted that more than a few people were wearing _their_ CDF uniforms.

Wrinkling his nose, Eli looked down at his outfit. The jacket and trousers were cut much the same as his uniform, but the clingy nature of the velvety _vev’vet_ fabric made it seem… indecent somehow.

The moment he saw Thrass wearing a long burgundy coat of what looked to be the same exact fabric Eli himself was wearing, he determined to abandon ship. Just as he was about to make his escape, however, the Chiss turned, his face splitting into a grin when he saw him.

“Mitth’el’iva!” Thrass called, sweeping his arms outward in a gesture of greeting. More than a few blue heads turned to face the Human, followed by a wave of whispered chatter, and Eli felt himself flush the color of his stupid outfit.

Would Thrawn forgive Eli if he murdered his only brother?

They weren’t _that_ close, right?

Eli sagged in relief when he was spared from whatever machinations the Chiss man was cooking up by a gaggle of silver-clad Navigators. Their beaming faces drew a genuine smile from the Human’s face. He was particularly pleased to see Un’hee, who he knew had been having difficulties adjusting after her traumatic experience with the Grysk.

“A joyous _Ozyly-esehembo H’ka_ to each of you,” Eli said, adding the traditional greeting: “May the Sight stand between you and harm in all the dark places you must walk.” 

“You have to try the cake, Ivant!” Nev’hee said, tugging at his sleeve to drag him toward the refreshments table.

“Your wedding suit is _very_ pretty,” Jen’daya giggled, taking his other sleeve.

“Congratulations on joining the house of Mitth,” Un’hee said with a coy smile.

Eli looked down at the girls with wide-eyed horror. “It's not a—I didn't—" he exhaled sharply. "I have _not_ joined the House of Mitth, and this is _not_ a wedding suit _._ ” Furrowing his brow he added with a mumble, “ _I don’t think_.”

Un'hee shrugged. “Uh-huh…” She gave him one last knowing look before running forward to take a large piece of blue and red cake from the server. With a big smile, she passed the plate to Eli.

“For me?”

She nodded. “You’ll need the calories later.”

Eli made a wry face but didn't comment.

Once all seven girls had their own servings of cake, Nev’hee poked Eli in the side. “And you’re standing in the wrong place,” she said, nudging Eli and his cake toward the large glass doors that led to the blue torch-filled gardens beyond.

“Right…” Eli said, trying to tell himself the girls were just making deductions, and not communicating any Third-sight knowledge. Still, they hadn’t steered him wrong yet. If they wanted him standing outside in the snow eating cake? He’d stand outside in the snow and eat cake.

To his surprised delight, the gardens were actually not nearly as cold as he thought they’d be. The blue torches seemed to be giving off a good amount of heat. He supposed it was too much of an extravagance for a people who’d largely resigned themselves to living indoors to heat their outdoor spaces, reserving the expense for only special occasions. Eli wondered vaguely if he was even supposed to _be_ in the gardens when he realized that there was no one out here apart from himself and the girls.

As if reaching into his thoughts—or _actually_ reaching into his thoughts—Unhee explained, “The fire gardens are a special gift for the Navigators, and whoever they choose to enjoy them.”

“Oh,” Eli said, feeling genuinely moved. “I’m honored: thank you, all of you.” He looked up—the sky was glittering with stars, and the faint green and blue glimmer of the aurora could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t often he could tolerate the cold long enough to get a good look at the night sky. “It’s beautiful,” he said wistfully, feeling inexplicably sad all of the sudden. 

Un’hee nodded in agreement, content to cling to the human’s hip.

Seemingly out of the blue, Jen’daya giggled. Un’hee gave her a chastising pinch, but she herself had a very subtle smile. 

“Are you warm enough, Captain?” he heard the familiar voice of his commander approach from behind.

Eli turned to salute the Admiral, pressing his arm across his chest. She was not wearing the black of the CDF, but the same silver as the girls. His eyes widened as the realization hit him, suddenly feeling like a fool for not figuring it out sooner.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “What did you think happened to the Ozyly-esehembo once their gifts faded, Captain? That we were floated off on an iceberg, perhaps?”

Eli flushed. “No, Admiral…” He took a large bite of cake to spare himself from having to speak for a few moments.

Ar’alani cast him an amused glance before affectionately brushing back one of the girls’ long black hair from her big red eyes.

In perfect sync, all of the girls winced slightly, then took several steps back and to the side. Both Eli and Ar’alani tensed, moving into high alert as they followed suit. 

If a girl who could see the future winced and moved over? _You moved over, too._

Just a few moments later, there was a **CRASH** of exploding glass as a burgundy and blue figure was thrown through the door, sliding through the snow to land in a heap in the exact spot they’d just vacated.

With an impressive amount of dignity, Thrass propped himself up onto his elbows in the snow to glare through the broken door. With the tone of someone who had very much _not_ just been thrown like a ragdoll through a pane of glass, he said, “Really, brother? Don’t you think you’re being just a _tad_ dramatic? Even for _you?_ ” 

Eli’s whole body flushed with a complex panoply of emotions when he saw the tall figure of Thrawn climb through the Thrass-shaped hole and step with predatory grace into the gardens. He had abandoned his white uniform for a black spacer’s jacket and fitted black pants. His usually carefully-combed blue-black hair fell into his furious red eyes, giving him an uncharacteristically wild appearance.

Over the entire time he’d known the Chiss, Eli had seen Thrawn really angry only twice. But seeing him now—his chest heaving with barely-controlled breaths, his eyes practically burning with rage—Eli wondered if he ever _had_ seen him angry _at all_.

It was incredibly disconcerting just how arousing it was.

“Is this not what you wanted?” Thrawn retorted to his brother, his voice a low growl.

Thrass winced, brushing broken glass from his sleeves as he stood up to face his erstwhile sibling. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, _little brother._ ”

Thrawn took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. Slowly, he turned his head as he noticed their audience for the first time. He swallowed dryly, then gave the Navigators and Ar’alani a respectful nod.

Un’hee waved her little blue hand enthusiastically in greeting while the others continued eating their cake.

Upon seeing the human in their midst, Thrawn’s red eyes flashed.

Eli coughed lightly, flushing under the intensity of the stare. A few tense moments passed in which he realized that Thrass had actually managed to correctly anticipate all of his brother's actions (the _right bastard_ ), and the only thought Eli could cohere in response to that startling revelation was: _huh._

Eli decided to follow the Navigators’ example and took a large bite of cake. After taking his time to chew and swallow, he said neutrally, “Good day, Admiral Thrawn.”

_He’d never claimed he wasn’t petty._

Thrawn’s mouth parted slightly as his eyes moved over Eli’s body, taking in the man in his entirety. Thrass followed his gaze, suddenly looking as if he were somewhat less confident in his plan now that it had come to explosive fruition.

 _Oh,_ Eli thought to himself with curiosity when he remembered exactly what he was wearing, _I wonder if this really does look like a Chiss wedding su—_

The Navigators twitched slightly.

 _Well,_ Eli thought as he shepherded the girls back a few steps, _that answered that._

With a hiss of anger, Thrawn _lunged_ at his brother, sending him back into the snow with a startled yelp.

The Navigators all watched with polite curiosity as Thrawn pulled back his fist to aim a cracking punch to Thrass’s jaw. The older brother retaliated with a swift knee to the Admiral’s groin before throwing the man off to the side and scrambling to his knees. Thrawn reached forward, clenched his fist in his brother's blue hair and _slammed_ his face into the snowy ground no fewer than three times.

“Alright, that is _quite_ enough!” Ar’alani snapped in her most commanding voice as she strode forward, grabbing Thrawn by the scruff of his jacket and pulling him bodily from the ground.

Eli made an impressed noise as he watched Ar’alani toss Thrawn aside a few feet and took another bite of cake.

Thrawn straightened and then cracked his neck, glaring sidelong at his brother as he brushed the hair from his red eyes.

Thrass staggered to his feet, rubbing at his now-purple jaw, a scowl on his face. “You know,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly, “none of this would’ve happened if you’d just _thrown Vanto a bone._ ”

The Navigators placed their dessert plates gently on the ground then covered their ears with their hands just moments before Thrawn growled a series of Cheunh expletives—most of which Eli had never even _heard_ before—at his brother. He’d caught “treacherous blue bastard” and "manipulative sack of... _something_ ," but the rest was a complete mystery.

Eli took another bite of cake as he watched Thrawn lunge past the Admiral toward his brother. Thrass jumped back a few paces just as Ar’alani caught Thrawn by the back of his jacket, holding him back.

Ar’alani hissed furiously in Thrawn's ear, “Do I have to have you _arrested_ , Mitth’raw’nuruodo? Need I remind you that you no longer enjoy the legal protections of the Mitth name since your exile?”

Thrawn looked at her for a moment before giving her a reluctant nod and pulling himself out of her grasp. “Very well, Admiral,” he said levelly, straightening his jacket. “But I reserve the right to change my mind and decide fratricide would be well-worth the consequences at any time.”

“Noted,” Ar’alani said with the exasperated sigh of a woman who’d clearly been dealing with this particular brand of brotherly wampa-shit for decades and had been beyond done with it for the vast majority of that time.

She turned toward the gaggle of Chiss who’d gathered in the doorway, shuffling to peak over one another’s shoulders, and scowled. “Do you _mind_?” she snapped. Like a confused shoal of fish in a wave, the onlookers tumbled over one another in their haste to retreat from the pure fury on Admiral Ar’alani’s face.

Muttering under her breath, Ar’alani began guiding the girls out of the garden. Un’hee paused, took Eli’s cake plate from his hands, and then joined the others inside. Eli attempted to follow, only to be pushed back by the girl. “You stand _there,_ ” she said, pointing firmly at the snow behind him. He felt remarkably like a dog, but he obeyed all the same. 

Eli shuffled uncomfortably in the snow when he felt Thrawn’s gaze fall on him and stared determinedly at his feet. He missed being on a ship… and eating cake. After several tense moments, he looked up. Thrawn was giving him the same intense stare he gave a piece of complicated art—like he was something inscrutable yet beautiful. Eli shivered under the gaze.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea what super-insulated crystal panes _cost_ these days?” Thrass demanded from the other side of the garden, shattering the tension like a Thrass through a window.

Slowly, Thrawn turned to look over his shoulder at his brother. After a few moments of hard staring, Thrass threw up his hands and said, “I’ll just get a broom or something, shall I?” Thrawn continued to stare after him as he stepped through the hole he’d been thrown through minutes earlier before returning to fix his red eyes on his former aide-de-camp.

Eli swallowed dryly. “So… how’s the whole Lothal thing goin’, sir?” he asked.

Thrawn stared at him for a moment, then admitted, “Not well. By now there will be a full-scale rebellion taking place, and I expect the Seventh fleet to be in no small amount of disarray after the Grand Admiral went missing.”

“Wait.” Eli held up a hand. “You mean _you_?" Thrawn nodded and Eli's eyes widened. "You just _left_?”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “I am here, am I not? What did you think had happened?”

Eli sputtered, “I don’t know, I figured maybe you finally decided to take the cumulative year of shore-leave you’d built up over the last decade!”

Thrawn shrugged lightly. “Consider this permanent shore-leave.”

“But what about the Empire? Your mission?” Eli asked, hardly hearing himself over the heartbeat drumming in his ears.

Another shrug. “The TIE-defender project is a lost cause, and the Death Star is going to be completed," Thrawn said resignedly. "The Emperor’s behavior has become steadily more erratic, and the Empire is in imminent danger of collapse within the next several years. There was no reason to stay, and every reason to come back.” He took a step forward. 

“But you were exiled,” Eli said weakly.

“I am not one to heed arbitrary authority, Eli, you know that.”

Eli gaped at the Admiral’s use of his given name. He hadn’t heard him use it since they were at the Academy. As if sensing his thoughts, Thrawn smiled ruefully. “I am no longer an Imperial officer," he said, "nor have I been a Commander in the CDF for some time. I daresay the military formalities are unnecessary, given my lack of rank.”

“Right… that’s… that’s right…” Eli trailed off awkwardly, wondering if he pleaded mentally to be saved from the overwhelming tension of the situation a Navigator would hear his thoughts, take pity on the poor Human and bring him back his cake so he could have something to do with his mouth other than flounder uselessly.

Thrawn tilted his head, eying Eli intently. “I may owe you an apology. It was evident from your face that you were disappointed by our last meeting.”

A warm wave of rage swept over Eli, sudden as a Csilla blizzard. He folded his arms across his chest, his brow furrowing. “You _may_ owe me an apology?” he scoffed, “I didn’t see you for a _year—_ the hardest year of my _life—_ and all I got was ‘good day, Lieutenant Vanto?!” Thrawn opened his mouth to speak but Eli cut him off, sweeping his arm angrily, “And then to add insult to injury, you ship me off with a pompous cape-wearing _asshole_ who never shuts up about how much he wants to _blow_ Director Krennic—”

“I did send my personal squad of death troopers to accompany you,” Thrawn pointed out. 

“Oh, that was supposed to make me feel _better?"_ Eli asked mockingly. "I’m lucky they didn’t _kill_ me!” he shouted.

Thrawn narrowed his eyes. “I ordered them to guard you as they would _me_. You were far safer with them than aboard the _Chimaera._ ”

Eli ignored the validity of the point and snapped, “You didn’t even look happy to _see_ me.”

“That is because I was not happy to see you,” Thrawn said, his voice rising, “In fact, I was hoping not to see you _at all_ , and was quite distressed by your presence aboard my ship _._ ”

Eli leaned back slightly in surprise, his arms falling limply to his sides as a hurt expression crossed his face.

Thrawn stepped forward and reached out to brush the freshly-fallen snow from Eli’s shoulders. “You see, my mission used to be so simple. But then you left… for me. And every night I had to convince myself that it was my duty to stay in the Empire. Every night it became harder and harder to convince myself to stay when the man who occupied both my dreams and waking thoughts was elsewhere.” He placed his hands on Eli’s upper arms. “I knew then that if you asked it of me, I would have abandoned my mission and followed you anywhere. That was something I could not allow you to do… even while I hoped you would,” he admitted quietly. 

Eli swallowed a lump in his throat. “Because we’re such good friends?” he asked weakly.

Thrawn gave him a small smirk. “Certainly.” 

Eli frowned. “And why did you attack your brother?”

“Because he deserved it,” Thrawn said simply. Eli gave a conceding shrug and nodded. “You are not a toy to be manipulated, Eli Vanto," Thrawn insisted, gently stroking Eli's arms with his thumbs. "You are so, _so_ much more.”

Eli’s tongue suddenly felt far too big for his mouth. “I didn’t know about the whole berry or sex-blanket thing ‘til later,” he blurted out awkwardly.

“I know,” Thrawn said.

“I haven’t fucked your brother or anything.”

“I did figure that out, yes,” Thrawn said with a smile, “You have always been a man of discriminating tastes.”

Eli took a deep breath, only just realizing in the drama of it all that Thrawn’s hands were still holding his arms. “So,” he asked casually, “What’s the deal with the gold body-paint, anyway?”

Thrawn slipped his arms around Eli’s waist. “If you would permit me, I would love to show you.”

Eli’s mouth split into a grin and he nodded, slipping his hand behind Thrawn’s neck to pull him down into a passionate kiss.

Thrawn closed his eyes, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as he pulled Eli closer. His whole body released the tension it had been carrying for _years_ and melted into the Human’s arms, secure in the knowledge of how perfectly _right_ this was.

Eli stiffened when he heard the sound of polite applause. Without breaking their mouths’ contact, he shifted his eyes to the left to see the Navigators standing in the doorway, clapping.

He flashed the girls a quick wink before turning his attention back to the man he loved, warm in his arms.

* * *

I made you all a meme that can pretty much be inserted into any chapter of this fic:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not pictured: Thrawn rage-flying home with Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” on hate-peat, and continuing to play the song as he throws Thrass through a window.
> 
> Note on the fashion: In my head, I am imagining a super-extra space-version of vaguely (ie not remotely) Shakespearean Chiss high-fashion. I have never seen the show Reign and honestly I have no clue what even is a Reign. But I couldn't sleep and I spent a long time on google images trying to find something approximating the outfits in my head, and here is the closest thing I could find (in an hour)<br />  
> [Eli](https://i1.wp.com/www.norwegianamerican.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/Francis-toby-regbo-reign-exclusive-still-021.jpg?ssl=1) (with less stuff)<br />  
> [Thrass](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/reign-cw/images/9/9c/Rs_634x1024-140917092229-634.Reign-CW-New-Season-Francis.jl.091714.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20140918170122) (except burgundy)<br />  
> [Ar'alani](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41%2BQngvWE6L._AC_.jpg) (except silver--she also wore it best, btw)<br />  
> Let's throw a vague approximation of Thrawn in there too--tell your brain to make a cross [between this](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e0/b7/d4/e0b7d44779d124fc1ba639318c1f0b7b.jpg) and Han Solo chic, but black.
> 
> Easter eggs(?)!
> 
> When Eli says “Fuck me with a vibrosaw,” this is a reference to the film Heathers, in which the original line is “fuck me with a chainsaw.”
> 
> “May the Sight [God] stand between you and harm in all the dark places you must walk.” A rip-off from Babylon 5, and is supposedly an “ancient Egyptian blessing” but as far as I can tell that’s not actually true…from my cursory googlin'? So I’ve retooled it and claimed it for the Navigators! * sticks silver flag pole in snow *
> 
> Also… you should maybe watch Babylon 5 if you haven’t. Or don't--it's your journey.


	9. Chapter Eight: "Good Day, Officer"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of Chiss party-goers awkwardly try to ignore the very obvious PDA, some people have some things to say about Thrawn’s dramatic reentry into Chiss space, and we learn that petty sibling rivalries are pretty universal on Csilla.

Eli suddenly felt very foolish.

There was a good decade of his life wasted doing things _other_ than kissing Thrawn—studying, chasing pirates, sleeping, sitting in meetings, trying not to die, eating cake—well, that was all over now.

Now there was just Thrawn’s tongue massaging his own with gentle, exploratory strokes, his strong hands pressed into his back, holding him close. His chest, firm and warm, flush against his own.

A loud cough sounded from somewhere that wasn’t Thrawn’s mouth, so Eli wasn’t much interested. The cough became louder, more insistent. He ignored it, focusing on how wonderful Thrawn’s silky blue-black hair felt in his fingers. Sliding his hands down Thrawn’s neck, across his muscular shoulders, down his arms and stopping to rest on his chest, he thought about how criminal it was to conceal that paragon of Chiss man-meat in a jacket.

“Er… Thrawn?” came a quiet but harried-sounding voice. _Thrass_ , Eli thought vaguely as Thrawn’s hands wandered appreciatively over his back, leaving his skin thrumming. Thrass wasn’t Thrawn. The things coming out of Thrass’s mouth didn’t matter. Now, the quiet moans coming out of _Thrawn’s_ mouth: _that_ was something worth writing home about.

“Lieutenant Commander!” came another, less patient female voice. Ar’alani, maybe. Did not matter.

Thrawn was nibbling on his lower lip now, before sucking the flesh lightly into his mouth. The CDF could discharge Eli, it was fine. He didn’t need to be a lieutenant commander when a very talented, very enthusiastic Chiss former grand admiral was doing _that_ with his tongue.

“Raw’nuruodo,” came a chorus of three or four, far sterner voices.

Thrawn tensed beneath Eli’s hands at that, his tongue quickly darting back into his own mouth as he turned to face the newcomers. Eli reluctantly released his hold, allowing Thrawn to straighten and face the four blaster-armed women in their crisp, white uniforms.

Eli’s stomach sank.

Chiss Security Force.

One of them held out a glistening pair of restraints. “Raw’Nuruodo, you are hereby under arrest for crimes against the Ascendancy. You will be taken to the Hall of Justice for questioning. Thereupon you will be escorted beyond the boundaries of Chiss Space to resume your exile.”

Eli’s eyes widened. “Crimes against the Ascendency?" he demanded, " _What_ crimes?”

The women turned to him as if surprised to find it could talk.

Thrawn squeezed Eli's hand briefly, leaning over to whisper quickly in Basic, “Do not interfere, I will be fine: I promise.” He took a step forward, then turned back and added hurriedly, “I love you, Eli,” before kissing him one last time. He allowed one of the women to spin him around, while the other roughly pulled his hands behind his back and cuffed him.

Admiral Ar’alani was standing in the crushed glass and snow, glaring reprovingly at Thrawn. “I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to ask for landing permission and _avoid_ this whole ludicrous scenario?”

Thrawn shrugged as he was pushed toward the door. “There was no time. And besides,” he added, giving Eli one last lingering, admiring look before he was shoved through the doors, “It was _well worth it_.”

Eli moved to follow as if pulled by some magnetic force connecting him to Thrawn, but was stopped by a firm hand.

“Don’t be a fool, you’ll only make it worse,” Thrass said levelly.

Eli spun on him. “They’re just gonna exile him again? He can’t go back to the Empire; it’d be a _death sentence_!” he shouted at the all-too-calm Chiss in front of him. Suddenly remembering Ar’alani's presence, he turned to her. “Can’t you _do_ something? Admiral?” he added the rank hurriedly, almost forgetting himself.

Ar’alani exhaled sharply. “Lieutenant Commander Vanto, calm yourself. To answer your question: had I been contacted ahead of time, maybe— _maybe_ —I could have arranged for him to legally enter Chiss space. But as it is now, I don’t even know how he got _through_ eight layers of planetary defenses.”

“Classic Thrawn, am I right?” Thrass said, nudging the woman in the shoulder. She glared at him and he gave her a respectful bow before slowly stepping away.

“So what, that’s it?” Eli demanded, “He doesn’t even get a _trial_?”

“He is nameless. He no longer enjoys the protections of citizenship, including due-process.” Ar’alani explained, her voice tense. She sighed, “I will go and see what I can salvage from _yet another Thrawn-disaster._ Perhaps the CDF can be convinced to intervene and assign him to an outpost on the edges of the Ascendancy as a technical adviser or something.” She gave Thrass a quick nod before departing.

“Such a waste,” Thrass said with a tired sigh as he moved to stand beside Eli. “Though, I suspect he’d be allowed a visitor after his initial questioning, even though he is unnamed… well, assuming said visitor was from a sufficiently influential family, that is. Still,” he added, clapping Eli on the shoulder, “It’s a shame nobody thought to plan for this ahead of time, officially adopted a Human whom he could legally bond to, and stowed a bag containing all the materials required for said bonding ritual in the snowspeeder at the front of the house.”

Eli’s mouth fell open and he turned to gape at Thrass. “Wait, you _adopted_ me?”

Thrass blinked at him. “I gave you my name; what did you _think_ I was doing with you?”

“Wait, so…” he ran his hands over his eyes. “You’re tellin’ me that if I were bonded to Thrawn, he’d be _named_? And could have an actual _trial_?!”

“No," the Syndic clarified, " _technically_ , I only said it was a shame how that was _not_ happening. And you can’t prove otherwise.”

Eli turned from Thrass and ran with breakneck speed to the front of the house where, as was foretold, a red snowspeeder was waiting for him.

* * *

Unfortunately, there was a great deal of professional rivalry and resentment between the CDF and CSF. And now that one of the CDF’s prized (if prodigal) sons had illegally entered Chiss space and even gone so far as to evade planetary security and land on Csilla, well… this was just too good of an opportunity to settle some old scores for Colonel Nas’dani to pass up.

No matter how hard Admiral Ar’alani glared at her, her sister didn’t have a procedural leg to stand on and she knew it.

_Not so perfect now, was she?  
_

Sure, Raw’nuruodo would be released outside the Ascendancy unharmed, and if those powerful allies he had in the CDF and House of Mitth got to work quickly he’d most likely be allowed back one day. But it’d take a few years… at least. And after the stunt he’d pulled, Raw’nuruodo would serve in the CDF again over _her dead body_.

Colonel Nas’dani smiled inwardly as she sat back in her desk chair, meeting the Admiral’s disdainful glare.

_Oh, how the mighty have fallen._

“Sir?”

Agent Nas’dani looked up to see Agent Un’lenuo standing at attention in the doorway. “Mitth’el’iva is here, requesting to visit the prisoner Raw’nuruodo?”

Colonel Nas’dani frowned. “Mitth’el’iva? Who in Csilla’s seven moons is _that_?”

“A member of the House of Mitth, sir.”

She gave the woman a withering look. “Yes, I figured that. But I’ve never heard of them. Did you run their _che’no_ and bloodprint?”

“Yes, sir—it checks out with the Aristocra’s records. They’ve been an official member of the Ruling House for a few months now. I called Syndic Mitth, the House of Records, _and_ the Ministry for House Affairs to confirm.”

The Colonel’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Being nameless, Raw’nuruodo didn’t have many rights (short of not being killed and tortured). But a member of the Eighth-Ruling house _did._ The last thing she needed was to antagonize the CDF _and_ the Aristocra.

Besides… what harm could it do?

She nodded to the agent before turning back to gloat to the Admiral before her.

Ar’alani’s face was set in a permanent scowl.

But internally… she was laughing her ass off.

* * *

Thrawn paced his cell barefoot. His own clothes had been replaced with a standard-issue gray sleeveless undershirt and drawstring pants. The light of three of Csilla’s seven moons shown through the narrow windows, casting the stone-walled space in a soft, blue glow.

All in all, the cell was far nicer than those of the Empire: it was spacious, with an attached refresher, and a comfortable enough bed. He’d been in Imperial officer’s quarters less comfortable.

Thrawn sighed, leaning against the wall, the chill of the stone against his back grounding him.

To borrow a human idiom: he'd fucked up.

He had not anticipated CSF’s zealousness to punish both the CDF and _him_ in particular. It was the sort of convoluted political in-fighting that he never understood and always resented. Such maneuvers did the Ascendancy no favors.

Admiral Ar’alani would be of little help, he knew. Her position in the CDF was already tenuous from the _last_ time she’d gone out of her way to help him.

His brother would be even less help. The Syndicate was a slow, bureaucratic behemoth that moved at the pace of sap in winter. It would be months or longer before they would even decide whether or not to _reconsider_ the matter of his name, let alone _make_ a decision.

And he _had_ punched him in the face. Thrass had deserved it... but still.

His heart sank as his thoughts turned to Eli. The man would follow him anywhere, he knew. But without the protections of the Ascendancy, and now being labeled a traitor to the Empire, there would be no safety for either of them.

Even if they could find a backwater world, beyond the reach of both the Chiss and the Empire to make a life for themselves, it would not be fair to the human. Thrawn had already upended the man’s life no fewer than three times. Eli had finally been promoted to a command position and his talents were at long-last being recognized. Thrawn could not bring himself to take that away. He’d been selfish enough already.

Most importantly, with Thrawn exiled, the CDF would need a mind like Eli’s if they were to defend themselves against the threats to come.

Even so… he smiled, his fingers involuntarily moving to brush against his lips. Thrawn had long suspected that kissing Eli would be a superlative experience, and he was not disappointed.

Eli Vanto always had a way of somehow exceeding Thrawn’s considerably-high expectations of the Human, and tonight had been no exception.

Thrawn straightened slightly as the door to his cell slid open. He was not due to be questioned until the morning (he’d suspected they wanted to give him the humiliation of stewing in a cell first).

A figure in one of the hooded burgundy robes that officially marked a member of the Mitth-ruling family entered, the door hissing shut behind them.

It was too short to be Thrass.

Thrawn breathed out a quiet laugh as the hood was lowered, revealing a grinning, tawny-brown face.

“So,” Eli said casually in Basic, dropping the large bag he was carrying with a thud and pushing back his robes to land in a pile on the floor. “Since you’ve got nowhere else to be, wanna get bonded?” He gestured to the _vev’vet_ burgundy suit he’d been wearing and added, “I got all dressed up and everything.”

Thrawn shook his head in amusement and pushed himself from the wall. “How long ago did Thrass adopt you?”

Eli took a step forward. “Almost two months ago now.”

“If it went into effect two months ago, he will have been working to facilitate your adoption far longer than that,” Thrawn pointed out, stepping forward, “and if he had the prescience to do that, I can only assume he has been working to begin the administrative side of the bonding process as well. Though a _koi’tas_ binding is immediately effective, it won’t hurt to have the additional legal clout that I'm told comes from a great deal of signing and stamping.”

Eli shrugged, taking another step such that they were now a mere foot apart. “Honestly, I’m really not bothered about that right now; I’m more interested in the _functional_ side of the bonding process.”

Thrawn cast a glance at the satchel on the floor. “You’re certain you want to do this? I will not have you entering into an undesired bond on my account, Eli.”

Eli gave him a withering look. “There’s nothing ‘undesired’ about this on my end, you nerfherder.”

Thrawn smiled at that. “Likewise.” He gestured to their surroundings. “And you don’t mind being bonded in a jail cell?”

Eli laughed, “Not at all—I think it’s pretty classically us, actually.” He moved toward the bed and took a seat, bouncing lightly on the mattress. He jerked his chin at the bag and said, “I’ve been instructed by a firmly-worded note that I’m not supposed to open that.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow and knelt before the bag, unfastening it. He laid the items gently out onto the floor as he pulled them out: a black scroll, silver pen, silver brush, small pot of gold paint, a flask of what he assumed was _koi’tas_ wine, a polished blue stone goblet, and a stem of _koi’tas_ berries.

Beneath the myriad objects was the distinctive burgundy fur of his _wa’mp’thana_. He pulled it out and stood, shaking it out and laying it gently upon the ground and kneeling upon it.

“Just so you know,” Thrawn said, looking up at Eli with a faint smile, “my _wa’mp’thana_ is bigger than my brother’s.”

Eli gave the blanket an appraising glance before looking back up at the Chiss. “I can see that.” He kicked off his boots and slid from the bed to kneel on the stone floor at the edge of the blanket. He lifted up one of the corners in his hands, gently running his thumb over the material as he inspected the _che’no_. As he already knew, it was the ideograms that composed Thrawn’s name: aurora, second, and valor.

“So..." Eli asked casually, "was this wampa terrorizing local villagers, or did it just look at you funny?”

“Neither,” Thrawn said quietly, finding himself suddenly anxious as he watched Eli inspect the fur blanket intently, “It was decimating the local _duhunu_ population, throwing the local ecosystem into no small amount of disarray.”

Eli nodded approvingly, moving to inspect the fur more closely. “Very ecologically responsible of you. And the one Thrass gave me?”

“He hit a wampa with his speeder driving in the dark when he was sixteen.”

Eli snorted. “Of course he did.”

After two minutes and forty seconds of watching Eli scrupulously inspect the blanket, Thrawn felt like he was about to explode. His voice was audibly strained as he asked, “Is it suitable?”

Eli gaped at him a moment when he saw the anxious look on the Chiss’s. “Oh, kriff, I’m sorry. I was just waiting for you to…” he waved vaguely at the assorted items beside Thrawn, “ _do_ something.”

Thrawn visibly relaxed. “I’ve been waiting for you to accept the proposal made by the laying out of the _wa’mp’thana_.”

Eli held up his hands, “Alright, I’m gonna stop you right there because if you think I have _any_ idea what I’m doin', you are deluded. I am just followin’ your lead here.”

Thrawn smiled. “I am not much better off, I’m afraid. I have never done this before.”

“You mean the bonding, right?” Thrawn did not answer and his brown eyes widened slightly. “You mean you’ve never…”

Thrawn said simply, without any shame or regret. “No.”

“Never?” Eli asked and immediately winced. 

“I assure you I would remember,” Thrawn said, giving Eli an amused look. “I will defer to your… _expertise_.”

Eli flushed, “I’m not an _expert._ I mean— _sure_ I’ve—but it’s not like I’m—there’s only been a few—alright, there was that time after the—are you _laughing_ at me right now?”

Thrawn was clearly struggling to bite back a smile, “I would never laugh at you on this the night of our bonding, Eli.” He said seriously, though his red eyes still danced with mirth.

“I should hope not,” Eli chided. _Here I am, in a prison cell, kneeling on a dead wampa, waiting to be painted on, and he thinks this is funny._ “So, walk me through the required steps?”

Thrawn nodded as if the movement itself diverted him into a serious frame-of-mind. “First, I will tempt you to approach my _wa’mp’thana_ by offering you _koi’tas_ berries. If you choose to continue, you will undress me upon the _wa’mp’thana,_ to ensure that each part of me meets with your approval. You are encouraged to take your time, so as to keep from making a decision you will later regret.”

Eli nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. “So far so good… go on…”

“If I meet with your approval, you will signify thus by painting the ideograms of your _che’no_ across my body,” Thrawn explained as he traced his finger slowly down his chest, from his sternum, down between his abdominal muscles, and past his navel.

“The paint is composed of gold dust and snow yams,” Thrawn continued, opening the small jar, working a small amount between his fingers, "it can serve as a lubricant, and is also quite edible. From my study of Lysatran erotic art, I noticed a tendency during coupling to use the mouth in ways that are largely unheard of among the Chiss, but that I found _quite intriguing_.” He held up his hand, examining the way the moonlight played upon his gold-painted blue skin as he turned his wrist.

A strange, cracked sound from escaped Eli’s throat. Thrawn was giving him an erotic lecture on art history and it was really, _really_ working for him.

“I am not to touch you until the act of consummation itself,” Thrawn said, gesturing to the flask and goblet. “After both parties are satisfied, we will share the _koi’tas_ wine to symbolize the completion of the bond.”

 _Holy kriffing fuck yes please why are we talking about this and not touching, sweet space I want you so fucking bad,_ Eli’s thoughts crashed over his mind before noticing the uncharacteristic tenseness of Thrawn’s hands on his thighs. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“I admit I…” Thrawn moistened his lips before continuing, “I never expected to find someone with whom I would wish to bond, let alone someone who would reciprocate that desire. After so many years of entrusting so much to you, serving beside you, watching you develop into the warrior you are today, being honored to consider you my friend… falling in love with you.... I find myself afraid that I will not be equal to the task of serving as your bond-mate and husband.” 

The idea that Thrawn could ever be unequal to _any task_ was so ridiculous that Eli almost laughed. He resisted the urge to reach forward and breach the space demarcated by the blanket to kiss the doubts from his face. 

Eli wished he could have thought of something eloquent to say in response—something heartfelt and poetic that would capture just how much this moment meant to him. About how Thrawn had made him the man he was today. How just having Thrawn here with him now was the greatest joy he could have ever hoped for. How he had no idea what was going to happen to them, but that it didn't matter. Because they would meet whatever challenges that faced them together, and when they were together they were _brilliant_. About how there was never room for anyone else in his heart but Thrawn, and there never could be.

Or even about how glad he was that the man hadn't been carted off into hyperspace by whales because Eli loved him more than anything and would have truly and completely lost his shit and taken it out on an already-endangered purrgil population before flying himself into Lothal's sun.

But he didn't.

Instead, what he managed was a frantic, "Thrawn: I love you and I want to be bonded with you. So if you don't mind, could you get some of those fuckin' berries ready? Because I intend to show you just _how much I want you_.”

Eli noticed a distinct purple tinge to Thrawn’s cheeks, but the Chiss was smiling. Thrawn gave him a single nod before reaching for the stem of blue and red berries. He considered them for a moment before plucking a single, plump berry and held it up in his fingers, eying the human intently.

Eli took a deep breath… then leaned forward, crawling across the blanket. He heard Thrawn’s breath hitch as his lips wrapped around the large berry and he bit it in half, deep red juice spilling over his lips, dribbling down his chin and spilling over Thrawn’s hand.

He closed his eyes, savoring the bitter-sweet taste and swallowing the fruit down before taking the rest of the berry in his mouth, his lips closing briefly over Thrawn’s outstretched fingers.

Eli looked up at Thrawn—those red eyes staring down at him with such enthralled intensity that he shuddered—and he licked up his inner wrist, collecting the red liquid. He traced his tongue along his blue palm before taking Thrawn's index and middle fingers into his mouth, sucking the remnants of juice from the digits before releasing them.

While wiping the juice from his chin with the back of his hand, Eli leaned back onto his heels. Switching to the language he always thought of as theirs—Sy Bisti—he said in a low, eager voice:

“Let's do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand I've made my decision: I'm not going to do a rating change, I am going to post the next chapter as a separate fic, with a much shorter redacted M version here. 
> 
> So if you want that sweet smut, I will link with the next update.


	10. Chapter Nine: "Good Day, Mitth'raw'nuruodo"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get steamy. 
> 
> If you would like to read every sordid detail, here is a link to the [explicit version](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604065)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the incredibly talented [chaos_monkey ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey) for the beta on the original [explicit version](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604065) and encouragement on this chapter!!!  
> Any remaining faults are my own.  
> Warning: supremely suggestive sexual content ahead. If you want to skip this chapter, know that Thrawn respects your choices; Thrass absolutely does not care either way. I will post a brief summary of this chapter with the next update if you'd like to give it a pass.

Something told Eli that declaring “I’ve already seen you basically naked when we shared quarters and my body is ready—hand me the fucking paint brush and I’ll scribble this kriff out real quick so you can absolutely wreck me” would be less than appropriate for the moment.

And he found himself very, very conscious about just what was appropriate for the moment in light of the circumstances. Honestly, Eli found himself less intrigued by the idea that he’d be Thrawn’s first than he thought a lot of guys he knew (some of whom he'd slept with) might be. In actuality, he felt honored, yes— _incredibly_ honored—but also completely terrified that his soon-to-be husband’s first time would be anything less than the perfection he deserved.

Eli barely remembered his own first time. He was eighteen and he’d gotten drunk with one of the guys he’d grown up with on Lysatra to celebrate getting into the Myomar Academy. It happened in his grandpa’s _barn_ of all places. He vaguely remembered a lot of awkward, toothy kisses and uncoordinated rutting followed later by panic when he desperately tried to figure out how to get _certain stains_ out of his brand new cadet’s uniform without resorting to asking his mother.

She took it in stride, bless her heart.

He shrugged inwardly: he was pretty much already set on burning _these_ clothes anyway.

Eli took a deep breath as he met Thrawn’s red eyes. If the ritual demanded he take his time “inspecting” Thrawn’s body, that was exactly what he would do, and hell if he wasn’t going to make it an experience to remember.

He reached out with one hand, trailing the back of his hand along a blue bicep. “If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable in _any_ way,” Eli said softly as he slid his hand over Thrawn’s shoulder to trace the line of his collar bone above his shirt, “please promise me you’ll tell me.”

Thrawn bowed his head and said, “Likewise.”

Eli smiled warmly at him, slipping a hand behind Thrawn’s neck. He gently played with the soft hairs at the nape with his fingers as he leaned forward, ghosting his lips over the side of Thrawn’s blue neck. Eli pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his throat and felt the pulse point under his jaw flutter beneath his lips, tasted the heartbeat quickening against his tongue.

It seemed to be quite the erogenous zone for the Chiss, Eli noted as he gently dragged his teeth along the column of Thrawn’s neck, earning him a quiet, almost inaudible groan.

He twined his fingers in blue-black hair as he continued slowly exploring the area with his mouth, adding each muted gasp and shiver to the mental map he was composing of the Chiss’s body.

Eli greedily collected data as he took his time undressing the man, compiling a catalog of actions and reactions:

A gentle nibble on Thrawn’s ear… a soft sigh…

A scraping of nails along bare ribs as Eli pulled up his shirt… a shuddering breath…

A firm bite on his abdomen as Eli slipped off his pants… an eager moan…

A kiss to his thigh… a pleased hum and rolling of hips…

A flick of the tongue behind his knee… a flexing of thigh muscles and another of those wonderful, soft sighs…

Once the man’s ever-present composure was well on its way to becoming a forgotten relic of the past, Eli placed a final, seal-like kiss over Thrawn’s heart before reaching for the brush and pot of gold paint.

In the dark room, the light of Thrawn’s eyes cast a red glow on his cheeks like a blush. He propped himself onto his elbows to watch Eli work.

As he swirled the tip of the brush in the viscous, glimmering paint, Eli settled himself over Thrawn’s legs, straddling his thighs and resting against his knees. When he noticed Thrawn’s gaze locked on him, he wagged his eyebrows once at him and gave him a small smile.

Experimentally, Eli dipped his pinky into the jar and sucked off the paint from his finger. The texture was slick, the flavor sweet and... oddly _familiar_ though he couldn’t place it just then.

Thrawn’s red eyes sparked with unspoken desire as he watched Eli, his gaze intently following every movement. At long last, Eli leaned down and braced his right hand on Thrawn’s shoulder as he held the brush in his left, letting it hover over his collarbone as he mentally plotted the ideal spacing for the three ideograms.

Eli closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself; he was still trapped in his ridiculous clothes, and his trousers had been _painfully_ tight for some time now. He glanced down at Thrawn, who was doing a remarkable job of remaining relatively composed in spite of his very evident arousal. But then the man had always seemed to be an endless well of patience and poise.

Eli looked forward to shattering that.

He was eternally grateful he’d taken Thrass’s advice to practice writing out his _che’no_ to heart as he made the first, tentative stroke down Thrawn’s sternum.

Thrawn let out a sharp hiss of breath, his hands clenched determinedly at his sides, and Eli realized he’d shimmied up too far while his attention was focused solely on his brushstrokes, and had inadvertently dragged himself just a little _too close_.

Eli winced, smiling apologetically. The Chiss was forbidden from touching the other man until he’d declared his suitor agreeable by completing his _che’no,_ and Eli could only imagine how frustrating this must be.

Thrawn let out a slow, ragged breath and said tightly, “Perhaps perfection of form is less important than speed in this instance.” 

Eli breathed out a laugh, smiling fondly at him. Then, with lips parted slightly in concentration, he began tracing the lines of the first ideogram with more confidence than before.

 _Mitth—_ aurora—was an expressionistic series of diagonal, waving sweeps across blue pectoral muscles, supported by a single horizontal line connecting his nipples.

_El—_ breath—was trickier. Thrawn’s own increasingly ragged breathing was making it (appropriately) difficult to get a single clean line across his stomach, and this character had six. As he traced the final, gently undulating line between the muscles of his abdomen, Eli realized that given how Thrawn was currently situated, the final character was going to involve a fair amount of painting over a particular part of his anatomy.

As if the poor man hadn’t been teased enough since this whole bonding-ritual business had started.

Eli shimmied back along Thrawn’s thighs, biting his lip as he reloaded the brush and appraised his blue canvas. The final ideogram—sun—was essentially an eight-spoked wheel with lines of varying lengths, some with flourishes on the end. He decided it would be kindest to move backward from 135-degrees and work his way counter-clockwise, saving the _pièce de résistance_ stroke for last.

Eli was so deep in concentration—losing himself in gauging how best to make even, symmetrical angles without painting all the way across the blue stomach—that he almost jumped when he heard Thrawn speak, his voice tinged with amusement: “No, we do not have a protractor.”

Eli cast him a chiding look before making the first stroke. “We could ask a guard to bring one,” he said with a mischievous smile as he drew the above his hip. “I’ve already thrown proper stroke-order out the window; we may as well call an audience while we're at it.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow as he watched Eli paint the 225-degree line along his right thigh. “You may have realized, Eli, that I am not keen on _sharing_ you.”

Eli’s face spread into a mischievous grin as he painted the 315-degree spoke on his left thigh. “You don’t say? I hadn’t noticed.” He made quick work of the 360 and 45-degree lines and said, “Well, I’ve got no intentions of bein’ shared, gorgeous, so I wouldn’t worry yourself about it too much.”

As Eli swirled the brush in the jar, reloading the bristles with an extra-generous coating of gold paint, he took a few moments to appreciate the breath-taking sight before him.

Thrawn was truly, _painfully_ beautiful.

The glimmer of gold paint on his muscular form, glittering softly in the moonlight against his cobalt skin was so striking he fully appreciated the need of that Chiss painter to document the scene in such careful, colorful, and loving detail.

Taking in a deep breath, Eli lowered the brush. Gold paint dripped from the bristles, landing in a slow, lazy drop down a blue thigh. He could see Thrawn’s muscles flutter and tense beneath him as he painted that last deliberate, languid stroke.

Eli let out the breath he’d been holding and tossed the brush off the edge of the blanket to land with a clatter on the stone floor before rolling under the cot. “It’s finished,” he said shakily, “can you please just be touching me now?”

Thrawn did not need to be told twice. He rose up from the soft, burgundy blanket and slid a hand behind Eli’s neck, crushing their mouths together in a passionate kiss. Eli moaned in relief as he opened his mouth against Thrawn’s, melting into the embrace as one of Thrawn’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close.

Eli frantically tore at the clasp at his neck and began unhooking his tunic, his hands shaking in his desperation as Thrawn kissed each inch of exposed tan skin. With a relieved sigh, Eli shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it unceremoniously over his shoulder; he’d never been so grateful to be rid of a garment.

How many times had Eli touched himself in the solitude of his shower or bunk, imagining—hoping, even—for that blue hand to be the one pleasuring him rather than his own tawny brown?

_A lot of times._

Desperate for more contact, Eli began scrambling to push his pants down his hips. It was awkward in his straddling position, however, and he tumbled to the side, falling with an “oof!” onto his back. Thrawn only just managed to cushion the back of his head with a quickly outstretched hand.

Eli grinned up at the man now leaning over him. “Nice catch.”

Thrawn smiled down at him before twisting around to pull Eli’s pants the rest of the way off and throw them onto the bed behind him. He bent down to press a kiss to Eli’s temple, his laughing breath tickling his ear as he asked, “Are you alright?”

Eli shifted his legs to rest on either side of Thrawn’s waist and nodded. “Yeah—it is a _real_ soft blanket,” he said, wriggling pointedly against it, the red fur tickling pleasantly against his neck and ears.

“Thank you,” Thrawn said, amusement dancing in his eyes as sat back on his heels between Eli’s legs, “I worked very hard on it.”

“Well, you’re about to work even _harder_ on it,” Eli said with a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Thrawn shook his head in tolerant amusement before doing just that.

=*=

Eli did not know how much time passed before his heartbeat slowed and his breath returned to normal and he didn’t care. The knowledge that a guard could conceivably enter the cell to check on their prisoner at any moment seemed a distant and unimportant reality while Thrawn was kissing his neck between expressions of his adoration and devotion in three different languages.

As the blood-oxygen began to return to his brain, Eli lifted his head from the blanket, blinking his bright eyes down at Thrawn. “The thing,” he said, his Cheunh vocabulary suddenly failing him. Thrawn arched an eyebrow and Eli switched to Sy Bisti, “The wine.”

Thrawn blinked at him. For a short, glorious time he had completely forgotten his precarious legal position. With a groan, he rolled onto his back to reach for the flask and goblet with a blind, searching hand.

“A little to the left,” Eli supplied helpfully, a smile playing on his lips as he watched the tactical genius and deadly warrior struggle to locate a cup resting less than three feet from his shoulder.

Thrawn’s hand finally closed around the flask and he passed it to Eli before reaching for the goblet.

“Sorry, love,” Eli said as he pushed himself with a groan into a sitting position, twisting off the cap, “but you’re gonna have to sit up. I won’t have you chokin’ just because you’ve had the sense temporarily fucked outta you.”

Thrawn laughed under his breath as he pushed himself into a sitting position beside Eli, his blue-black hair falling into his eyes. “I’m sure my brother would love that,” he said as he watched Eli pour wine into the cup held in his blue hands.

“Yeah, well, as grateful as I am to your brother I’d rather just send him a fruit basket or somethin’,” Eli said dryly as he closed up the flask and set it aside. He took a deep breath as he got a good look at Thrawn.

The man was a glorious mess: hair mussed from sweat and Eli’s fervent hands, lips swollen, the beginnings of dark purple bruises forming on his arms and back, gold paint smeared across his mouth, chest, and stomach.

Still, Eli had to hand it to him: the man could really pull it off.

Thrawn held up the goblet to Eli and he leaned forward, bitter-sweet wine splashing on his tongue and dyeing it deep red as the cup was gently tipped into his mouth. As he swallowed, Thrawn passed the goblet off to him and Eli reciprocated, pouring wine into his waiting mouth, staining it purple.

It was amazing to Eli that just that small action sealed what they’d just done into a legally-binding marriage bond. “Is that it?” he asked, paranoid that they’d forgotten something.

Thrawn arched an eyebrow, thinking for a moment. He reached for the scroll and pen, unfurling it on the ground in front of them. He gave his marred _che’no_ a quick, curious look before handing the pen to Eli.

“You can’t do it?” Eli asked uncertainly as he accepted the instrument, “Your writing is so much neater than mine.”

“Only Mitth can write on the scroll of names,” Thrawn explained as he slid sideways, pressing his chest against Eli’s back and looking over his shoulder. “And besides,” he said, bending down to nuzzle Eli’s neck, “I quite _enjoy_ your writing.”

Eli’s eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in the sensation of Thrawn gently nibbling his ear before he recalled the urgency of their situation. “ _Later,_ ” he chided as he broke free of Thrawn’s grasp to lean over the scroll. Glancing over his shoulder he added with a smirk, “and _often,_ ” before turning back to his task.

Eli sighed as he stared down at the ancient and sacred document. “I’m just writin’ the same thing as over here, right?” he asked, gesturing the burnt _che’no_.

“That is completely up to you,” Thrawn said from over his shoulder.

Eli frowned. “Do you _want_ me to change your name? I don’t know that I could be reliably expected to call out somethin’ other than ‘Thrawn’ in the throes of passion.”

Thrawn chuckled under his breath, pressing a quick kiss to Eli’s temple before resting his chin on his shoulder to look down at the scroll. “If my third name started with an ‘N’ I would still be ‘Thrawn.’”

Eli scrunched his nose in distaste. “Yeah, well I’m not changin' it. The only other Cheunh words I can think of that start with ‘N’ right now are ‘lamp’ and ‘sock.’ Besides,” he added, turning his face slightly to meet Thrawn’s, “you’ve earned the name 'Valor' time and again in both the CDF _and_ the Imperial Navy. I’d never want to take that from you.”

Thrawn squeezed Eli's waist gently and watched as his bond-mate carefully wrote out _Mitth’raw’nuruodo_ in the space beside his own, connecting the two _che’no_ with a looping infinity symbol.

“It’s done!” Eli said triumphantly, picking up the scroll and blowing gently on the silver ink to dry it before carefully rolling it up.

Thrawn smiled at him, pressing his forehead against Eli’s cheek. “On the contrary: it is just beginning, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious now, here's the link to the [explicit version](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604065#work_endnotes) again


	11. Chapter Ten: "Goodnight, Lieutenant Commander Vanto"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thrass is a very good brother and finally gets a decent latte, Eli does science, and Ronan becomes a meme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief smut ahead: use handrails and proceed with caution.

After falling asleep for far longer than they’d intended, and folding up the very _used-_ looking—but thankfully washable— _wa’mp’thana_ , the newly-bonded couple decided to take a shared shower before their imminent and (hopefully temporary) separation.

Eli, very reluctant to leave his new husband to deliver the Naming Scroll to Thrass, extended their shower by taking it upon himself to find out if _koi’tas_ berries really _did_ taste like a certain something.

You know… for science.

It turned out they did. And if the string of indecipherable Cheunh expletives Thrawn was grunting out were any indication, he’d been more than happy to indulge Eli’s little experiment.

A few hours before sunrise, when they’d decided it was finally time to separate, Eli stepped into his pants and buttoned up his tunic only to realize that his front and crotch were completely plastered with gold paint.

Thrawn was drying his hair with a towel as he watched Eli dress, a glint of amusement in his red eyes. “Burgundy becomes you,” he said. “And the gold is a nice touch, too.”

Eli groaned, holding out his tunic from his chest and staring at a particularly large smear. “I’m still not quite fluent in Chiss cultural cues, so tell me: will it or will it not be completely obvious to _everyone_ what I’ve been doing?”

Thrawn stepped forward, twining a hand in Eli’s brown hair. He whispered in his ear, “I thought that was the point,” before placing a kiss on the pulse-point beneath his jaw.

Eli breathed out a laugh. “If you say so.” He leaned his head back, giving Thrawn access to his throat and relishing in the warmth of his mouth before pushing him away with a great deal of reluctance. “Alright, I need to get this done before you get shipped off to Ozyly-knows-where. And, it honestly hurts me to say this," he added, his eyes raking over Thrawn's shower-damp abs, "but put some clothes on."

Thrawn let his hands fall to his sides and sighed, scanning the room for wherever his pants had ended up. “Very well.”

Eli stepped into his boots and grabbed his cloak. He thought for a moment, then handed it to Thrawn. “You hold onto that,” he said, picking up the packed bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He leaned up for one final, tender kiss before pressing the call button for the guard.

* * *

When Officer Lunh’yen saw the light indicating that someone in Cell 001 was calling him, he groaned. It was too early for this… even for the Chiss. He’d heard this prisoner had once been the Son of a Ruling Family: entitled pricks, all of them... probably wanted some _cha'i_ and pastries.

 _Well_ , the officer thought grimly, _they’d just have to wait until 06:00 for their cha'i and pastries like everyone else._

He leaned forward and pressed the comm. “Yes, Prisoner Raw’nuruodo?” he asked stiffly.

 _“This is Mitth’el’iva, actually,”_ came a strangely-accented voice over the speaker.

Officer Lunh’yen blinked. “What are you doing in Prisoner Raw’nuruodo’s cell?”

_"I was escorted here last night by Agent Un’lenuo.”_

Lunh’yen winced. Agents were the big hot-shots in the CSF, but they were utterly hopeless when it came to basic procedure. A quick glance at his computer told him that a Mitth’el’iva had, in fact, been approved by Agent Un’enuo: cleared by Nas’dani herself, no less. Evidently, the Agent couldn’t condescend to approach an officer to let them know that a member of a Ruling Family was currently _locked in a detention cell_.

 _Oh well_ , he shrugged to himself, _this wasn’t going to be on_ his _head._

Once Officer Lunh’yen ascended to the top floor of the Hall of Justice, it was a quick walk to cell 001. He pressed the comm-button and said gruffly, “The prisoner is to sit on the bed with his hands behind his head.”

A quick press of his hand to the security pad and the door hissed open. As instructed, Raw’nuruodo was sitting on the bed with hands laced behind his neck, his face as polite as you please.

The officer’s eyes widened with shock when he saw just who Mitth’el’iva _was_.

It was that _alien_ he’d heard about _._

Officer Lunh’yen's mouth fell open as he took in the alien’s appearance: he was wearing Mitth colors, but his front was completely splattered with what was unmistakably gold bonding-paint. Mouth still agape, he turned to look back at the prisoner.

With his hands still laced behind his neck, Thrawn _winked_.

* * *

Thrass stood in the large, black marble vestibule of the Hall of Justice, sipping his artisanal _cha’i l’atte_ , waiting for Mitth’el’iva to hurry his little human-ass up. Admiral Ar’alani was standing off to his side, her arms folded across her chest as she stared at the lights above the turbolift doors which would indicate when a car was finally descending from the topmost detention level.

Brierly Ronan, having just returned from his post serving as a Basic interpreter at the _Un’feeri_ Outpost, stood behind her, trying and failing to keep the confusion from his face. Upon his return, he’d demanded to know where his _own_ translator was. Ar’alani had just given him an amused look and gestured for him to follow her. He still had no idea what he was doing there.

With a ding of the lift doors, Commander Eli'van'to stepped out at long last. He gave Admiral Ar’alani a salute as he stepped forward to join the odd trio, which she returned with a small, knowing smile.

“Why are you _gold_?” Ronan asked.

Eli frowned when he noticed the other human. “I thought you’d been assigned to the _Un’feeri_ Outpost.”

Ronan sniffed. “I was, but Command determined that my considerable administrative skills were wasted there,” he said proudly, as if swishing an invisible cape.

“Captain Ti’naya got sick of him,” Ar’alani said flatly and Eli made a silent “ah” of understanding.

“Took you long enough,” Thrass said with an impatient huff as he eyed the smears of gold paint across Eli’s tunic and pants with an arched eyebrow.

Eli shrugged a shoulder as he passed the scroll to the man who had legally been his guardian for two months but was now culturally his brother-in-law. “I wanted to be thorough.”

“I’ll bet," Thrass said dryly as he shoved his cup wordlessly at Ronan before unrolling the scroll and eying it carefully. He pulled out his compact datapad, took a scan of the black parchment, then uploaded the new _che’no_ to the House of Records.

“Your handwriting has improved,” Thrass remarked casually as he rerolled the scroll, tucking it inside his coat. 

Eli smirked and opened his mouth to say something lewd about having an excellent blue canvas to practice on, but was stopped by the hurried stomping of several pairs of booted feet.

Agent Nas’dani was storming toward the group, flanked by six white-uniformed CSF agents. “Syndic Mitth,” she said with a curt bow of her head, “Perhaps _you_ could explain to me why Prisoner Raw’nuruodo is suddenly refusing to be questioned without the presence of a Mitth legal representative?”

Thrass arched an eyebrow and said pleasantly, “I suspect because as a fully-named member of the Ruling House of Mitth and citizen of the Chiss Ascendancy it is his right to do so.”

Nas’dani made a contemptuous noise. “I don’t think so. Not even _you_ can get someone citizenship _overnight._ ”

“Never said I had,” Thrass said simply. “Now, by right of the _Proclamation of 4663_ and the _Che’no Articles_ , I demand as Syndic of Mitth that _Mitth_ ’raw’nuruodo be remanded to my custody at once to await his trial.”

Nas’dani fumed at him. “That is not—“

Thrass cut her off, “—For a member of the CSF to refuse to comply with the _Che’no Articles_ would move the situation into the jurisdiction of the nearest high-command level CDF officer, of course.” He gasped in mock surprise, turning to Admiral Ar’alani. “Why that would be _you,_ wouldn’t it, _Admiral_? How convenient is _that_?”

Ar’alani nodded curtly. “ _If_ the CSF refused to comply, under law I _would_ be forced to take protective custody of Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” She smiled at her sister, " _if_ that were the case, that is.”

The lift dinged again, and everyone turned. The doors opened to reveal one cuffed Mitth’raw’nuruodo, back in his own black clothes, escorted by a stout gray-uniformed CSF Officer with a burgundy cloak slung over his arm.

Eli smiled warmly at his husband, and Ronan—who was woefully behind on recent events—gasped a barely-audible _“Grand Admiral Thrawn!”_

“Officer Lunh’yen!” Nas’dani barked at the officer escorting Thrawn. She watched the prisoner walk forward with casual grace toward the group, the Officer close beside him. “Why have you brought the prisoner here? He should be in his cell awaiting questioning!”

“He said I had to, Sir,” Lunh’yen said, “because of the…” he hesitated and Thrawn leaned over and whispered something in his ear; Lunh'yen nodded and repeated, “the _Che’no Articles_ , sir.” He glanced anxiously up at Thrawn who gave him a minute, encouraging nod.

“And you just _listened_ to him?” Nas’dani snapped. 

“He was very persuasive, sir,” Lunh’yen said. Turning to Thrass he asked, “Shall I remand him to your custody now, Syndic?”

Thrass nodded and Lunh’yen moved to unlock Thrawn’s cuffs.

“Now, just _wait_ a minute!” Nas’dani said. “I demand _confirmation_ that this prisoner is indeed a Son of Mitth!” She turned to Thrass and said coolly, “By law of the _Ascendancy House Security Protocols of 4675_.”

Thrass gave her a conciliatory nod and pulled out the Scroll of Naming from his jacket. He unfurled it, holding it out before her. Immediately spotting the burnt _che’no_ she smiled triumphantly, Shoving her finger at it as she said, “ _There_. Exiled. Nameless.”

Thrass coughed lightly, pointing to the newly-inscribed interlocked _che’no_ beneath it, jerking his head over at Eli.

Her eyes widened in shock and she turned to look at Eli Vanto as if seeing him for the first time. “ _Him?!_ ” she looked back down at the scroll, then back at Eli, then at Thrawn, then back at the scroll, then back at Eli, then back at Thrawn, and finally settling to glare at Thrass. “You seriously expect me to believe he’s been bonded since his _arrest_?”

Thrass sighed wearily. “I cannot be held epistemically-responsible for your beliefs, Agent, but it’s true.”

Ronan was staring between all people present with a perplexed look on his face.

“That’s not possible!” Nas’dani insisted, “The _only_ immediately legally binding form of bonding is the _koi’tas_ bond, and unless somebody managed to smuggle in a whole lot of ritual objects _on top of_ that alien, there is _no way_ the ceremony could have been completed last night in his _cell_!”

Officer Lunh’yen cleared his throat. “Um, sir? The non-Chiss wasn’t _smuggled_ in, sir.”

“What?” Nas’dani snapped at him.

“I checked the logs this morning, sir—Mitth’el’iva was escorted by Agent Un’lenuo to the prisoner’s cell last night. I only just let him out a little while ago.”

“And who the hell cleared _that_?” Nas’dani demanded, turning on the Agent in question.

Agent Un’lenuo flushed slightly. “You did, sir.”

She glared at the woman. “ _Well_ , did I clear you to allow leave him there _all night_ with a _bag of bonding-ritual items_?”

“We can’t just deny a member of a Ruling House their personal possessions, sir!” the Agent insisted, a scandalized look on her face.

“I scanned it for weapons!” another Agent interjected helpfully before shrinking under her CO's glare. 

Nas’dani shook her head, rubbing at her temple. “This is absurd. How do we know they even really _completed_ the ritual, and aren’t just _lying_ about it as a play for more time? Does whatever species _that_ is—“ she jerked her head at Eli, “—even _have_ the required _parts_?”

At that, Eli stepped closer to Thrawn, noticing a small smear of gold still lingering on the corner of his mouth for the first time. Keeping his eyes locked with his husband’s red, he reached up and slowly swiped it away with his thumb before placing it in his own mouth to suck off the sweet paint.

Thrawn smirked at him, his lust-filled red eyes flashing with unspoken promises.

Somewhere behind them, Ronan gasped as his brain finally caught up to what was happening, and frantically whispered to no one in particular, “O _h my god: they were roommates!_ ”

One Agent leaned over to another and whispered, “Do people even still _do_ that? My _grandparents_ weren’t even _koi’tas_ bonded for Ozyly’s sake—said it was too _old-fashioned_.” The other Agent just shrugged while he thoughtfully eyed Eli, arching an interested eyebrow as he considered the possibilities.

Nas’dani glared at Thrass, a rueful smile twisting her mouth. “And I suppose if I were to check I would find that this new bonded _che’no_ has already been filed with the House of Records?”

“Indeed you would,” Thrass said congenially, “but I encourage you to confirm that… _on your own time_ ,” he added pointedly before turning to the Officer. “Now, please release Mitth’raw’nuruodo to my custody, if you’d be so kind.”

The officer gave the Syndic an awkward salute before reaching down to unlock the cuffs. Thrawn rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his wrists. Eli took one of his blue hands in his and placed a quick kiss to his knuckles.

Thrass rolled his eyes and began walking at a brisk speed toward the main doors. “Alright, you kids—get in the speeder,” he said tightly. “And I don’t want you two _making out back there_.”

* * *

Thrawn let out a long breath as he walked through his personal library. It had been thirteen years since he’d last stepped foot into the sanctuary of his youth. He perched on the edge of his desk and pulled a large indigo volume toward him. It had long been his favorite book. Ever since he’d first been adopted into the House of Mitth and had been given access to the main library, he’d spent many a night tucked in a corner, reading about the ancient myths behind the constellations and studying the illustrations.

Noticing a piece of paper sticking out the top, he frowned, turning to the marked page. The book fell open to reveal a full-page painting of _The Lovers._ He smiled as he read Eli’s handwritten note on the paper:

_What the actual fuck, Thrass?!_

Thrawn felt a surging of pride when he deduced that Eli must have unwoven his brother’s plot by discovering a work of art. He tilted his head curiously as he inspected _The Lovers_ more closely, arching an eyebrow.

 _That was an intriguing position… and Eli was quite flexible, he knew_ —

“Getting some inspiration?” Eli asked from the doorway to the bedroom. He had insisted on changing out of the burgundy suit and back into his own nightclothes the moment they were back at the manor. Thrawn wasn’t sure why, as he had no intention of allowing Eli to _stay_ dressed for very long, but he supposed it was a matter of principle.

Thrawn smiled as he watched his husband approach, slipping his arms around his waist and pulling him to rest between his legs. “You are all the inspiration I need, Eli,” he assured him, placing a lingering kiss on his jaw. 

Eli cradled Thrawn’s face in his hands and drew him in for a deep kiss. He pulled away, resting their foreheads together. With a knowing smirk, he said, “You want to try that position, don’t you?”

“You know me so well,” Thrawn said with a contented smile. As he allowed himself to be pulled toward the bedroom by his belt he added, “It doesn’t seem like it should be possible, but with proper stretching beforehand I think you could manage to do that with your legs safely.”

Eli grinned predatorily at the Chiss before tossing him to the bed. “Oh, _I’m_ not the one who’s gonna be doin’ that with my legs, _sir._ ”

Thrawn cocked an eyebrow as he settled back into the mattress. “Intriguing… do go on.”

After an extended bout of very aesthetically-conscious and supremely athletic sex, Thrawn held Eli to his chest, running a hand through his brown hair and mouthing at the soft skin behind his ear.

Eli melted completely into the embrace, his limbs feeling like goo. He couldn’t move if he wanted to… and he really did not want to. He vaguely hoped he wasn’t suffocating Thrawn, but the man seemed content to have the human lying atop him (if the continued eager ministrations of his mouth were any indication, anyway).

Eli nuzzled his face into the crook of Thrawn’s shoulder, the scent of his husband lulling him into a deep, contented sleep.

Thrawn placed a kiss on his temple, carding his hair carefully through his fingers so as not to wake him. In Basic, he whispered, “Good night, Lieutenant Commander Vanto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The prisoner is to sit on the bed with his hands behind his head or else it gets the hose again."--please tell me I'm not the only who thought it.
> 
> I don’t know that “Oh my god” is something somebody would be likely to say in Star Wars, but the entire time I was reading the Thrawn novel for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about [this vine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-P0m0M_8pc) and I NEEDED Ronan to say it. Also: remember Vine?
> 
> I am a little sorry I didn’t write out the post-bonding smut, but it was already like… 20,000 words more than I’d originally intended this fic to be. *barks over shoulder* Ronan! Please add this fic to the pile of intended one-shots that became novel-length at ONCE! (May add a side-fic about their post-bonding fun times later.)
> 
> Finally, thank you all for reading! You may have noticed an addition to the chapter count! That is because all the wonderful comments I received inspired me to write an epilogue!  
> This is one of the many side-fics that nagged at me while working on my primary WIP, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, it got finished first!  
> I’ve also got TWO sequels to GDLV in the works, so... buckle up for that. Again, I blame my wonderful commenters.


	12. Epilogue: "Goodbye, Thrass"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eli says “goodbye” to Thrass three times.

The trial to determine whether Thrawn should be allowed to remain on Csilla permanently was scheduled _to be_ scheduled in two months and (for once) the former Grand Admiral was grateful for the confused glacier that was Ascendancy bureaucracy.

In the meantime, Thrawn was relegated to Mitth manor under house-arrest, and it really was not so bad. He was well-accustomed to living in the cramped quarters of a starship, and living in a huge manse was hardly a struggle by any reasonable standard.

Though, if he were honest, the only thing keeping his mind from launching a fullscale rebellion out of boredom was one Eli Vanto.

Sharing a bed with the man—who had turned out to be some manner of Lysatran sex-god—did not hurt matters, either.

One week to the day after their _koi’tas_ bonding, Thrawn sat at the large table of the ornate dining room, trying desperately to pay attention to the notes on recent Grysk activity that Admiral Ar’alani had sent him on his datapad while his brother sighed dramatically into his morning cup of _cha'i._

“I miss Eli,” Thrass lamented, staring off into the middle distance.

Thrawn scrolled through the most recent missive he’d received as he replied evenly, “He is in the Southern Wing.”

“Yes,” Thrass said sullenly, “unconscious. _Again._ ”

“As I have already explained to you nine times,” Thrawn said tightly, not looking up from his datapad, “the human sleep-cycle is non-negotiable.”

“What the hell kind of creature manages to evolve to the point of establishing a galactic empire while needing eight hours of sleep _every night?_ ” Thrass shook his head skeptically and said under his breath, “It is simply not plausible; I still say you’re just wearing him out… poor thing.”

The corner of Thrawn’s mouth twitched and he set aside his datapad to pour a second cup of _cha’i._ “Not entirely untrue.”

“That man is the best thing to ever happen to the House of Mitth,” Thrass declared, spearing a tauntaun sausage from a silver platter and plating it. “I mean, _you’re_ a genius and everything, Thrawn: but you’re a pretty _useless_ genius and just a bit of a disaster. _Eli,_ however, _”_ he pointed his fork at the empty chair usually occupied by the Human, “now, _there’s_ a genius.”

“Agreed,” Thrawn conceded simply, cradling his mug of _cha’i_ in both hands and blowing steam from the top.

Thrass took a bite of sausage and said, “See, _you’re_ like an obscure…artsy… beat-computers-at-chess-type genius: fun to occasionally break out at parties, but not terribly practical. Whereas Eli is an _actual_ genius. Do you _know_ what he did last month?” Thrass asked, pouring himself another cup of _cha’i._

“Eat a lot of fruit?” Thrawn asked.

Thrass cast him a brief, contemptuous look before continuing in his previous amazed tone, “I’d asked him for help getting reorganized when my assistant flaked on me, and he unraveled an entire _conspiracy_ at the highest levels of government that had been fomenting undiscovered for over a _decade_ in only—wait for it…” he held up his hands for a dramatic pause: “ _six hours._ ”

Thrawn arched an interested eyebrow. “Indeed? How?”

“One word,” Thrass said with the dramatic tone of an illusionist’s assistant unveiling the next trick: “ _pastries._ ”

“And what did pastries have to do with it?” 

“Could not tell you!” Thrass said cheerfully. “I still only half understand it myself, and couldn't possibly do the tale justice; you'll just have to ask him... If his biology will ever allow him to _wake up_ , that is,” he added under his breath.

When Eli arrived at long last to breakfast, he was still in his nightclothes, stretching and yawning loudly.

“Good morning, Mitth’el’iva!” Thrass said in sing-song tone.

Eli blinked groggily at the display of excessive morning cheer as he walked up behind Thrawn’s chair. With another yawn he sleepily replied, “Good mornin’, Thrass,” before leaning down to place a lingering kiss on his husband’s temple and whispering in his ear, “and thank _you_ for the _very_ good mornin’.”

“You could have stayed in bed,” Thrawn chided as he watched Eli move around the table and pull out a chair across from him, slumping into his seat.

Eli shrugged as he plated what had been his standard breakfast for the last week: leftover cake from the _Ozyly-esehembo h’ka._ Apparently, most guests had fled in fear of Ar'alani's wrath before they could sample any. Eli wasn't sure what it was the cake reminded him of, but he couldn't get enough of it for some reason. He poured himself a glass of juice and said, “When I’m up, I’m up—you know that.”

“I certainly do,” Thrawn replied, the faintest hint of suggestion tinging his voice.

“You woke him up, didn’t you?” Thrass hissed at his brother, shaking a tauntaun-sausage-speared fork at him accusingly, “with your _needs._ ”

_He did._

“No, he didn’t,” Eli said with a tired sigh. “It was those damned _wampas_ again, hollerin’ at all hours.”

“Ah yes,” Thrass said. “They can get quite vocal during mating season.” He turned to Thrawn. “Perhaps you should go _take care of them_ so they can finally _shut up_ about it?” he said, jerking his head pointedly. 

Eli choked on a bite of tauntaun sausage and took a deep glug of juice to wash it down.

Thrawn bit back a smile. “He means _kill_ them, Eli. Not gratify them sexually.”

Eli shot his husband a glare, "I knew that."

_He hadn't._

Thrass shrugged. “I guess either would work, but I think it’d be better if you just killed them so your bond-mate can get some proper sleep at some point this spring. He’s always freezing, so it’s not like he couldn’t use another blanket.” 

Thrawn smiled into his mug. “If you’re concerned about a rise in the local wampa population, why don’t you just go out for a late-night drive _,_ Thrass?”

Eli snorted and Thrass glared at his brother. “Oh, _ha ha:_ laugh it up. Some of us have evolved to use _technology._ We can’t _all_ kill a beast with our bare hands, _Thrawn._ ” 

“No, we cannot,” Eli agreed, staring lasciviously at his husband over his glass of juice. Noticing the hungry look on Eli’s face, Thrawn gave him a measured wink. And for someone who’d only been doing the gesture for a couple of years now, the man sure had mastered it, Eli thought. Suddenly, he felt completely awake and he hadn’t even touched his _cha’i_ yet.

While looking over at his brother, Thrawn began discreetly rubbing his foot along Eli’s calf under the table and said, “I used the traditional _ch’ris_ knife, Thrass. Not my hands. I would also point out the dangers of ineptly interfering with trophic cascade, particularly in such a volatile ecosystem.”

“’Trophic cascade?’” Eli asked.

“The cascading effects across food webs that sustain ecosystem function, particularly from apex predators—like the wampa—downward,” Thrawn explained.

Thrass rolled his eyes. “He was asking for a Basic translation, _Thrawn_ , not a lecture.”

_He was not._

Ignoring his brother, Thrawn tilted his head at Eli and said, “My brother tells me you unearthed a conspiracy and single-handedly spared Csilla from devolving into a hive of scum and villainy.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Your brother tends to exaggerate when he’s caffeinated.”

“True—but I doubt even he was exaggerating as much as you think,” Thrawn said as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as if getting himself settled for a story, but was in actuality giving himself the leverage needed to reach Eli’s thigh with his foot. “So, what is the overly-humble Vanto-version of events?”

Eli covered a gasp with a cough as Thrawn’s foot began stroking his inner thigh, then spread his knees slightly to give him more access. “Well, there was an inconsistency in the Fourth Syndic’s budget projections goin’ back several years. See, they always serve _cha’i_ and pastries at their meetings. But there was a discrepancy between the number of meetings on record, the amount of money that _should_ have been allocated to refreshments for that many meetings, and the money that was actually _spent_ on refreshments. So I cross-checked with their heating budget and confirmed that there were meetings happenin’ that were not on the books, but of course, they were still usin’ the room and serving the _cha’i_ and pastries because they’re not too bright, I guess.”

“You can’t have a meeting without _cha’i_ and pastries,” Thrass said with the eager tone of someone hearing their favorite story for the tenth time, and already getting excited before all the best parts.

“So I’ve learned,” Eli said with a wry smile as if reliving a dark memory before shaking it off. “Anyway, I went lookin’ through the receipts, ‘cause all that spendin' is part of public record…”

Thrawn stared at Eli’s mouth as he continued to speak. That drawling Wild Space voice was doing things to him as it described the increasingly elaborate and multi-layered data-based unraveling of Syndic Feh’ra’s embezzling scheme that somehow involved temperature fluctuations in Csilla’s equator, increased rainfall, and plummeting bluewheat crop revenue.

Those wonderful pink lips, moistened from the juice he was drinking formed the words “projected yield curve” and Thrawn was about to lose it like somebody who hadn’t just nailed his husband into a mattress like a _ch’ris_ knife into a wampa’s left kidney only two hours ago, and Eli didn’t look much better once the Chiss managed to reach his crotch with the arch of his foot. 

Eli let out a shaky breath and finished, “So now he’s under investigation by CSD, HICA, and the House of Ag.” 

Thrass shook his head in amazement, raising his cup in a toast to Eli. “All that from a cursory _glance_ at a budget report. Absolutely ingenious.”

It _really_ was. Thrawn retracted his foot from Eli’s crotch, stood rapidly from the table with a clatter of cutlery and whispered fervently in Basic, “You beautiful fucking abacus of a human, I need you inside me. _Now._ ” 

Eli stared at Thrawn for a moment, swallowed a lump in his throat, then nodded dumbly as he stood to follow his husband out of the dining room. As he reached the door he waved over his shoulder and chirped out a, “Goodbye, Thrass!” before darting through the door.

“I may not understand Basic but I’m pretty damn fluent in _context_ ,” Thrass called after his brother as he sped away, bond-mate in-tow, “… dick!” 

Thrass narrowed his red eyes at the doorway then shrugged, saying to no one in particular, “Not like I don’t _completely_ get it.” He shook his head in amazement once more as he held his steaming cup of _cha’i_ to his lips. “Pastries _…._ Fucking _genius._ ”

* * *

“Really, Thrawn?”

Thrawn shifted his eyes to look at his brother. The man did not appear pleased.

He could not see why. Thrawn had agreed to not have sex with Eli outside the confines of their own quarters: this was only kissing.

True, he had Eli pressed up against a wall of the East Wing making noises like a loth-cat in heat while Thrawn systematically unraveled the human with his mouth, but it was all above the belt and thus well above-board. Making out in hallways was sanctioned, falling within the conditions laid out in their spoken agreement.

Well, for _now_ it was a spoken agreement.

After the last close-call in the kitchens (involving a misguided attempt at replicating the taste of Lysatran sunberry griddle cakes that rapidly devolved into the inappropriate—albeit ingenious—application of tauntaun butter), Thrass had declared he was having a contract drawn up by the family lawyers.

Thrawn removed his tongue from Eli’s left ear and turned his head toward his brother. “Really ‘ _what_ ,’ Thrass?” he asked flatly.

Thrass was standing with one hand on his hip, while the other angrily shook what looked like a datacrystal at his brother’s face. “Do you have _any idea_ how hard I have to work to keep your blue ass out of prison, Thrawn?” he snapped.

“If your daily histrionics over dinner are any indication, I am going to guess ‘very hard,’” Thrawn said neatly.

Thrass cast him a withering look, “Cute,” then turned to Eli (who was doing his best to look unassuming, not moving out from the shelter of the larger man pressed against him as if he hoped Thrass might forget just whom it was his brother had been necking only seconds previously). “You may wish to come to my office, Commander—it’s probably best if the first time you see the footage is _not_ during your raging-wampa-of-a-husband’s _trial_. Judges can be so impressionable.”

Eli frowned, casting a brief searching look at Thrawn before slipping out from his arms. “Uh… okay.”

Thrass grabbed the human by the shoulders and wordlessly steered him down the hall, past the main parlor, past the secondary parlor, all the way to his office where he plopped him down into the chair behind his desk. He leaned over Eli’s shoulder and inserted the datacrystal into the holo-port while Thrawn watched, leaning against the wall behind his husband.

“What am I lookin’ at?” Eli asked as video-footage of empty sky materialized before him.

“As you two seem to have forgotten while stamping every wall and piece of furniture in the manor with your pheromone trail: Thrawn has been charged with crimes against the Ascendancy,” the Syndic explained as he perched on the edge of the desk, watching clouds roll lazily across the sky in the footage, casting all their faces in faint violet light.

Eli shot the Syndic an annoyed look. “Yeah. I know he broke his exile, _Thrass_.”

Thrass laughed humorlessly, “Oh, that in and of itself should never have been an insuperable problem for any decent legal team. But unfortunately for us, his return from Exile was conducted in a spectacularly Thrawn-like fashion.” He gestured toward the projection and said, “This is CSF surveillance footage submitted by the prosecution into evidence today.” 

“Alright,” Eli said apprehensively, staring at the empty sky. A familiar silhouette appeared and he narrowed his eyes, turning his face slightly toward Thrawn while keeping his eyes on the footage. “Is that… is that a TIE-fighter?”

“It is a modified TIE-Defender prototype,” Thrawn said as a dozen white planetary defense fighters surrounded the TIE, red lights blinking on their hulls.

“You can’t have flown that all the way here, though—even with the hyperdrive they can’t carry much fuel,” Eli pointed out as he watched the TIE-fighter shoot straight upwards, back toward space.

“Indeed. I took a freighter large enough to stow the fighter to the edge of Imperial space.”

“And where is the freighter now?” Eli asked, watching the TIE weave between the Chiss salvo of blue ion bursts. 

“I set it to autopilot to fly into Ilum’s sun.”

“Oh,” Eli said, his eyes widening as two planetary interdictor rays locked onto the TIE, holding it in place. Then suddenly, there was a brilliant burst of green light that emanated from the fighter before shooting back down along the hazy beam, causing the interdictor array to explode on the ground.

In response to Eli’s increasingly troubled facial expressions, Thrawn explained, “Unlike their Imperial counterparts, Chiss interdictor rays are partially sonic. By rewiring the TIE’s shields to vibrate at a particular frequency, I was able to create a feedback loop that overloaded the array, creating a chain reaction that—“

“—took out an entire quadrant’s worth of planetary defense turrets?” Eli said blankly as the camera angle shifted, revealing several large explosions on the ground.

“Precisely,” Thrawn said simply, folding his arms across his chest.

“Wait for it,” Thrass said ironically to Eli, “this is my _favorite_ part.”

The camera angle shifted and the TIE descended rapidly toward the surface of the planet, skimming the spires of Csilla’s capital before dipping sharply to weave between the tall black buildings, occasionally reaching as low as mere meters off the city streets while people dove to the ground, covering their heads.

“Thrawn…” Eli muttered helplessly, gripping his brown hair in his hands.

“It was the only way to avoid the fighters’ proton cannons,” Thrawn insisted from behind him with the tone of someone explaining why they felt the need to replace tauntaun butter with _cho’cho’nut_ oil in a beloved family _ch’ookie_ recipe.

“Uh-huh…” Eli said weakly as a Chiss fighter attempted to follow the TIE and tore through a building in an explosion of glass before plummeting to the ground, trailing black smoke as the pilot ejected.

“I was careful to avoid casualties,” Thrawn said quietly.

“I am sure you were,” Eli said dazedly, the explosions on the projector casting his face in red and green light.

“Thrass,” Thrawn asked pointedly, “ _were_ there casualties?”

“Lives?” Thrass shook his head. “No. But you destroyed a great deal of _very_ expensive planetary surveillance equipment, an interdictor array, six proton turrets, three fighters—not to mention a beloved pastry shop— _and_ injured a lot of peoples’ pride in the process and that’s _worse._ ”

“That is categorically _not worse_ ,” Thrawn asserted with narrowed eyes.

Thrass sighed, casting his brother a pitying look. “Trust me, Thrawn. When it comes to clearing your name: _it’s worse._ ”

Thrawn looked down at Eli for confirmation.

His bond-mate shrugged, “As much as I hate to agree, it really is worse.” Eli frowned and looked up at Thrass, asking quietly, “It wasn’t the shop on Main and 6th, was it? The one with those wampa-claw pastries?”

Thrass nodded grimly and Eli turned morosely back to the footage to see the TIE crash into a cliff seconds after Thrawn hopped out, landing in a cat-like crouch. He casually brushed debris from his black jacket before disarming the twelve CSF agents surrounding him, unarmed and with brutal efficiency.

Eli was shaking his head. “No wonder the CSF has such a hard-on for kickin' you out.”

Thrawn exhaled sharply. “I do not pretend to understand it.”

“Right…” Eli muttered, turning to face his husband after the footage cut out. “And how did you get to the manor after that?”

Thrawn hesitated a moment then admitted, “I hotwired a CSF speeder.”

“Of course you did,” Eli sighed, powering down the holo and slumping back into his chair, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face.

“Shall I play you the audio recorded by the CSF agents’ comm-units?” Thrass asked.

“That won’t be necessary, thanks,” Eli said feebly.

The Syndic shrugged and plucked the datacrystal from the port and slipped it into his chest pocket. “I need to get back to the House of Justice. I’m not saying I’m going to be offering any judicial officials bribes, but… I’m not _not_ saying it, either,” he sighed, shaking his head wearily as he moved toward the door. He paused and turned back briefly to say, “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Goodbye, Thrass,” Eli muttered, staring at the desk.

Thrass slipped out the door, then quickly stuck his head back inside to ask, “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to hear it, Eli? It’s _spectacularly_ incriminating.”

“ _Goodbye, Thrass_ ,” Eli said more firmly, continuing to stare at the desk as his brother-in-law left the office, closing the door behind him.

After a few moments, the sound of the large front doors slamming shut could be heard in the distance, followed by the thrum of an engine and the whir of a speeder across the snow.

After several long, tense minutes, Eli stood. He took a slow, deep breath before turning to face his husband. His brown eyes flashed as he slammed his palms against the wall on either side of Thrawn’s head and growled, “Do you have any fucking clue what you do to me, you insane fucking genius? That was the hottest fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my entire fucking _life_.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “I take it you appreciated the footage?”

“Oh, we’re _getting_ a copy of that footage,” Eli said with a smirk before frantically tugging at the fly of Thrawn’s pants and attacking his blue neck with his mouth.

“Agreed,” Thrawn said with a satisfied smile as he tilted his head back, giving Eli greater access to his throat, “I will contact my lawyer.”

* * *

Thrass knew that Admiral Ar’alani had been extremely accommodating of her newly-wed Lieutenant Commander. Given Eli’s work for the Ascendancy analyzing the genetic data of the Navigators, it was not hard to justify his extended stay on Csilla. She too wanted Thrawn to have the additional support for his upcoming trial, Thrass knew. According to his theory—and he strongly suspected Ar’alani agreed—the only reason Thrawn’s career had survived so many Imperial courts-martial was the steadying influence and social-awareness of his aide.

Unfortunately, the former Grand Admiral would have to make do without this time... and more disconcertingly, so would Thrass.

It was only two weeks before Thrawn’s trial that they’d heard the news: Twelve navigators were missing, and the _Steadfast_ was going to lead the effort to recover them.

Thrass leaned in the doorway that led to the bedroom shared by his brother and his husband, watching said husband pack.

“You have to promise me you’ll get him through this,” Eli said as he grabbed uniform jackets from his closet and tossed them onto the black duffel bag on the bed.

“Thrawn will be acquitted: I promise you,” Thrass said levelly. He found himself having to work to keep the sadness from his voice as he watched his brother-in-law prepare to return to the _Steadfast._ None of them knew when he would be back.

And given the increased Grysk presence in the quadrant he was being dispatched to… they could not know if Eli _would_ be back.

Eli sighed wearily as he moved to search in a drawer. “That’s not what I meant, Thrass—I meant… just take care of him, alright? Don’t let him do anythin' rash.”

Thrass did not point out that he had been taking care of Thrawn long before Eli came into the picture. Instead, he just nodded and said, “You got it.” If this little display was what his brother-in-law needed to cope, then he would play along. He owed the Human that much.

“Make sure he doesn’t commit any more crimes while I’m gone,” Eli said as he pulled open another drawer to make sure he hadn’t left anything he'd need.

“Sure thing.”

“Make sure he actually _sleeps_ on occasion.”

“Will do.”

“Don’t let him get bored, and obsess over somethin'… unhealthy.”

“Would never dream of it.”

“ _Cha’i_ is not an acceptable substitute for real food.”

“I’ll make sure he knows.”

Eli threw a rolled pair of socks at the Chiss’s head and said, “No, that one was for _you,_ Thrass.”

Thrass smiled and tossed the socks onto the burgundy _wa'mp'thana_ folded at the foot of the bed. “I’ll be sure to throw in the occasional pastry, just for you.”

“Good,” Eli said, looking down at his bag, running mentally through everything he’d just packed and everything he’d need. “That’s good…” he repeated absently, rummaging through his bag one last time, “fruit too… fruit is good.”

Thrass shrugged. “Never much cared for fruit.”

Eli turned to him, brow raised. “So that’s what that was back when I was on sick-leave? You were just unloadin' all the fruit you didn’t want on me?”

“Waste not, want not,” Thrass said with a small smile, before it faltered. “Eli… I was not able to convince the CSF to make an exception: I’m sorry.”

Eli smiled sadly at him, “Me either. And honestly, it might be better this way.”

Thrass’s face flickered with confusion for a brief moment, but he did not press it. Instead, he only asked, “Where is he?”

“In the gardens with Admiral Ar’alani.” Eli zipped up the duffel and slung it over his shoulder. “I think he’s trying to work in as much tactical analysis and advice as he can before we need to catch our shuttle.”

Thrass laughed humorlessly as he followed Eli out the door. “I expect you’re right. And I’m sure she is just _loving_ that.”

Once they reached the main hall, they saw Ar’alani standing by the front door, waiting with her hands folded behind her back.

Thrawn was nowhere to be seen.

Thrass furrowed his brow and asked, “Where is my brother?”

“Still in the gardens, so far as I know,” Ar’alani said. Turning to Eli she said firmly (but not unkindly), “We must hurry, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Yes, sir,” Eli said, hitching his bag higher over his shoulder before moving toward the door.

“Surely there’s time for him to say goodbye to his bond-mate, Ar’alani,” Thrass said with a laugh of disbelief, “it’s not _his_ fault my brother is a complete tool.’

“No!” Eli said more sharply than he’d intended. “No,” he repeated more softly, turning to Thrass. “Look, Thrawn and I—” he let out a deep breath, “….We knew this was gonna happen eventually, we just didn’t know when. We’ve been sayin’ everythin' we need to say to each other every day since we’ve been bonded. I’ve already had to say goodbye to him once… I’m not doin’ it again, and neither is he.”

“And me?” Thrass asked, his voice unable to completely hide his emotion.

After shooting the Admiral a quick apologetic look, Eli dropped his bag to the ground and took three steps to close the distance between them. He pulled the Chiss into a tight hug, smiling as it was returned in kind.

Eli placed a kiss on his brother-in-law’s blue cheek and whispered, “Goodbye, Thrass.”

Thrass gave the human’s arms one last squeeze before letting him go. “Goodbye, Lieutenant Commander Vanto. Come home safe.”

A burst of cold air swept through the hall as Eli opened the door for the Admiral, giving Thrass one last small smile before following her to the speeder that would take them to the base. Thrass closed the door behind them, pushing it shut with a gentle click. He let his hand linger there for a few moments before pulling away.

Thrass did not like being sad. It was not something he was in the habit of feeling. But he had come to look forward to seeing Eli in the mornings, enjoyed the humorous commentary his Human facial expressions provided to his brother's antics.

He remembered the first time Eli had discovered the _pa'ino_ in one of the parlors, the warmth of his smile and intensity of his eyes as Thrass demonstrated how the keys functioned and explained how Chiss musical notation worked. It was not a surprise—but still a delight—that Eli's wonderfully mathematical mind was making music within minutes, his brown fingers dancing across the instrument with complete confidence as he studied the fifteen-tone Chiss octave division.

Thrass shook his head in a vague attempt to break himself of his increasingly-morose thoughts. Deciding his best distraction would be checking on his eminently-frustrating brother, Thrass made his way to the recently-repaired garden door. He could work on coaching Thrawn to _pretend_ to look like a normal, relatable person for his trial, perhaps. That would certainly take his full powers of concentration... not to mention patience.

“Thrawn?” He called as he stepped into the crisp morning air, his eyes scanning the conifers and snow-blooming flowers for his brother. Thrass began to amble around the garden, his feet crunching lightly upon the snow. He stumbled slightly when his foot slid into a frozen premade footprint.

“Thrawn!” Thrass called again more agitatedly as he began to follow the trail of footprints. “We need to have a serious conversation about your… trial…” he trailed off, realizing where the footprints led…

…straight to the fifteen-foot high wall that bordered the estate.

Thrass groaned loudly, clenching his fists at his sides as he yelled at the masonry, “I _literally_ just promised your husband I wouldn’t let you commit any more crimes _ten minutes ago,_ you fucking _prick_!”

** _To be continued...._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone picked up on my cake-crumb trail I've been laying down the last few chapters I will be immeasurably happy. If not, it's going to be picked up again in the sequel. 
> 
> So, there are sequels in the works that may or may not have started as epilogue and turned into their own fics.  
> I know, I KNOW.  
> This is torture.  
> I left you with a sad/ambiguous feel after all that rom-commy rumpus (but yes, Thrawn was 100% breaking house-arrest to give his man some sugar). I will post a preview of the sequel(s) as a new chapter… but If you want to pretend the Epilogue doesn’t exist, I support you. ~~hell, that’s what I did with Harry Potter.~~
> 
> Cheunh note: cho’cho’nut oil and ch’ookie are basically coconut oil and cookie respectively. I bake a lot and I wrote this epilogue hungry D: And a pa'ino is basically just a piano. Also, while I was on Hoth kidnapping the wampa population, I also grabbed some tauntauns. 
> 
> Easter eggs (?)!  
> 1\. Of course, the “wretched hive of scum and villainy” line comes from Episode IV.  
> 2\. As we learned in the bonding chapter, Thrass procured the fur for his wa’mp’thana by accidentally killing a wampa with his speeder when he was sixteen.  
> 3\. ch’ris knife is a reference to the crysknives of Frank Herbert’s Dune because Navigators-using-future-vision-to-navigate-hyperspace solidarity.


	13. Coming up next...!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which my wonderful commenters brightened my days and inspired me to play around in the world of GDLV a little longer.

Coming up!

  1. **Interlude: “Really, Thrawn?”**



A Thrawn&Thrass-centric one-shot (so far… okay, let’s call it a three-parter) in which Thrawn gets bored during his house-arrest without Eli around to keep him occupied, and finds some unusual projects to distract himself from his own mind. Unfortunately for those in charge of his legal defense—namely Thrass—he gets a little _too_ distracted. Also known as: That time Thrawn took up gardening.

  1. **“Good Day, Captain Vanto”: Wargames**



An explicit multi-chapter fic in which Thrawn is tasked with rebuilding and improving Csilla’s planetary defenses, and decides (without ANY ulterior motives) that wargames would be the best way to test their effectiveness. And the proposed opponent? Why, Eli Vanto, of course! Quickly devolves into an extended, super elaborate, very expensive, military-funded bout of foreplay.

3\. **Mitth Family Values: Tantrum**

A side-fic one-shot taking place during the events of GDLV in which Eli and Thrass discover their shared love of music; it's a talent that Thrawn does not share, and a source of connection between his brother and husband that he is not remotely jealous about so could you please stop saying that he is, thank you.

Preview of Interlude: “Really, Thrawn?”

Thrawn gave the single ice-mite one last reproachful look before sliding down his red safety-visor and igniting the plasma-torch with a whirr of orange light.

Thrass coughed lightly, knowing better than to startle his brother when he got into such a state. “Thrawn…” he began cautiously, keeping a wary distance, “what are you doing?”

“Making a preemptive strike,” Thrawn said simply before leaning forward and applying the torch to the ice-mite, sending red sparks flying back at his face.

“Okay…” Thrass said, “May I ask _why_?”

Thrawn drew himself to his full height, staring down at the utterly unaffected furry white dot for a moment before turning to face Thrass, his expression darkening. “A warrior does not seek to understand evil, brother: only to destroy it.”

“So you’re going to kill them all off, are you? Aren’t you worried about tropical cascade?” he asked in the ultimately-futile hope that maybe— _maybe_ —Thrawn could be dissuaded from his present course of action.

“ _Trophic_ cascade,” Thrawn corrected as he turned up the heat on the torch, turning the previously-orange flame blue before reapplying it to the offending creature with renewed vigor.

“My mistake,” Thrass said pleasantly. Grumbling under his breath he added, “ _nerd._ ”

Preview of “'Good Day, Captain Vanto': Wargames”

A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of Eli’s mouth as he asked, “How would you feel about making this military exercise a little more… interesting?”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “You are proposing a wager of some sort?”

“I am,” Eli said, his holo-form flickering briefly as he folded his arms across his chest.

“Professional or personal?”

“Oh, _definitely_ personal.”

“How personal?”

Eli leaned forward slightly, the flashing of his brown eyes perceptible even through the holo-call, “ _Intimately_.”

Thrawn thought for a moment, then folded his hands behind his back before proposing his own terms.

The feedback made Thrawn wince slightly as Eli shouted, “WHAT?!”

Preview of "Mitth Family Values: Tantrum"

Eli paused, his lips still locked with Thrawn’s as he wrinkled his brow in confusion. He could have sworn he heard the distant echoes of music. “Do you hear that?” He asked, his voice muffled against his lover’s mouth.

“Ah,” Thrawn said, pulling back and sliding his hand out from under Eli’s shirt, “that would be my brother having a tantrum.”

Eli furrowed his brow, tilting his head as he listened more closely. “Your brother is having… a _musical_ tantrum?”

“Indeed,” Thrawn said, “I suspect it has something to do with a recent acquisition I made of a painting with the Mitth-family funds.”

Eli pulled back, eying Thrawn in amused suspicion. “Just _one_?”

Thrawn paused, then admitted, “I anticipate him becoming even more upset in the near future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so when I was listening to the Thrawn audiobook while walking my dog and got to the diary entry at the beginning of Chapter 18, it reminded me of how I monologue to my pumpkin patch in the summer and my succulents when I had succulents ~~before I was betrayed.~~ So here we are: Thrawn gardening,  
> interspersed with reworked passages from his diary in the Zahn novel.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Good Day, Lieutenant Vanto [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165478) by [originblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/originblue/pseuds/originblue)
  * [An Unconventional Solution](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528355) by [Revakah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revakah/pseuds/Revakah)




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